


the greatest pretenders (in the cold morning light)

by MediaWhore



Series: childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Character Death Outside of Harry Styles or Louis Tomlinson, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Explicit Language, Infidelity, Louis-centric, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Movie AU, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Police AU, The Departed!AU, Undercover, Undercover Cops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>undercover cops/the departed au</p><p>Louis and Nick are on two different sides of the law and mobster Simon Cowell is not the only person they have in common. The one where Louis is an undercover cop and Harry is the court-ordered shrink who refuses to prescribe him Valium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the greatest pretenders (in the cold morning light)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Bastille's Get Home.  
> this is a very self-indulgent au inspired by the movie the departed. basically louis' scruff reminds me of leonardo dicaprio as billy costigan and once the comparison entered my brain it wouldn't leave.  
> i'm neither british nor an expert in gangs/police forces/undercover operations so this probably requires a great deal of suspension of disbelief. (yes i know SOCA was dissolved recently, but bear with me on this one...)  
> while this is a harry/louis story, it's louis centric and not only focused on the romance. just fyi.

Louis is not quite sure what he's doing there to be frankly honest.

He's not a police constable, not yet, and while he's not top of his class, he's nowhere near the bottom. He's not sure why he'd need a scolding is the thing. Because this is what it has to be. Louis has been thinking for the past thirty minutes - thirty minutes he's spent waiting outside DSC Payne's office of all places - and he has no clue what he's doing there. Maybe he's getting kicked out. Though there's nothing he's done that would deserve that kind of treatment. Maybe his step-dad Mark was right all along. Ever since their fight - THE fight, as he calls it in his mind, capital _t h e_ -, Louis' thoughts have tended to linger on the man he used to see as a second father. It’s silly, he knows, but he can’t help himself. His mind brings him back to Mark’s harsh words and his shaky prophecies. How Louis' father was nothing but scum and how he's destined to the same fate. Louis doesn't usually feel like scum, but... He finds the words hard to forget and they haunt him still, months later, as he waits. He shakes his head, and the thoughts off. No. He’s not going there. What happened happened and he is not going to let it ruin him. There's a sudden noise that startles him out of his pep talk. The office door is opening and a tall bloke with gigantic hair steps out.

"Thank you DSC Payne," the man says, before closing the door again.

"Hey, if it isn't DI Grimshaw!" a police officer with red flaming hair says. "Nick mate, congrats!" he adds, all smile for his colleague.

"Cheers," Grimshaw replies and Louis feels something like jealousy stir uncomfortably in his belly.

This is what he wants. This is what he’ll become. This is  _the_  dream. He doesn't have the time to dwell on it though because DS Horan is looking at him from the door. Louis is surprised by his presence for a second, before worry takes control again.  _What the fuck_ , he can't help but think.

"You comin'?" Horan asks pointedly.

"Right, yes. Of course," Louis babbles with a quick nod.

He sees Niall Horan roll his eyes and feels like smacking himself in the face.  _Great first impression Tomlinson_ , he thinks bitterly. He is so out.

"Do you know why you're here?" DSC Payne asks once they're inside his office and he's friendlier than Louis expected.

He's young, younger than anyone in his position should be, but he looks tough. Liam Payne, despite an aura of kindness, looks like someone you shouldn't mess with. He seems like the perfect mixture of gentleness and authority. Louis isn't quite sure how he should react to that strange combination. He opens his mouth, trying to come up with an answer that will save his sorry arse, but he is quickly interrupted.

"You don't," DS Horan tells him and he just looks tough. "I know you don't. You know you don't. So don't fucking waste our time with your half-arsed answer, yeah?"

Louis closes his mouth and tries not to think about how screwed he is. "So why am I here then?" he asks daringly. If he's about to be kicked out, he's going out with a bang.

"That's exactly what we wanted to know Tomlinson," Horan replies and there's something in the way he says Louis' last name that doesn't seem right.

"What do you mean?" Louis asks slowly, frowning.

"I mean, what are you doing trying to be a policeman? We all know that's not your calling innit?" Horan continues.

DSC Payne doesn't interfere despite his colleague's rudeness. He stares at them with a curious, observing look and remains silent. Louis feels sick.

"What's my calling then?" he replies with a defensive tone. He should have known.

Horan just raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want me to answer that? Do I actually need to spell it out? Or maybe you could tell us about your aunt Dannii? What about your sister Georgia and her boyfriend Stan? Or maybe you wanna talk about Daddy Tomlinson?"

Louis feels so stupid, of course this was going to play against him. He can't believe he thought it wouldn't be an issue.

"That doesn't have anything to do with me," he still replies through clenched teeth.

"Oh, please," Horan continues with a snort. "You were raised in a family of criminals and you're trying to tell me it has nothing to do with you?!"

Louis inhales sharply. His hands are shaking and he has to put them into tight little fists to hide the betraying tremors, to stop himself from reacting. 

"But I forget!” Horan exclaims, “you were only in South Manchester halftime, right? A little snake slippering through! The nice middle class kid with mummy during the week and the little bum on the weekend. Hannah fucking Montana and the best of both world!"

And suddenly, Louis can't take it anymore.

"With all due respect, what the fuck do you want from me?" he says in cold voice before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He needs to remain calm, no matter how unfair their claims are.

"Your help," Liam Payne says with sincerity and Louis has to look up at that because  _what_?

" _Okay_ ," he replies, suspicious, hesitant. 

"We're taking Cowell down," Payne continues and he looks determined.

Louis almost believes he can do it.

Everyone in town knows who Simon Cowell is and he more than anyone. They've never met per se, at least not that Louis remembers, but his entire family worked for him at some point. Well, he thinks his sister is doing drug deals that have nothing to do with Cowell and his crew, but still everyone dabbled a little. Except Louis. And his father most of the time. Cowell is Manchester's parasite, sucking the city and its citizens dry. Louis would love to see him behind bars. He's just not sure it's possible, no matter how determined Liam Payne looks.

"Still not getting it..." Louis risks in a small voice because they’re not making sense. At all.

"You're not as smart as your test results said," Horan tells him. "Still, too smart for traffic and speeding tickets though."

They’re both staring at him intensely and he's racking his brain trying to understand what they could possibly need from him to take Cowell down when he remembers who he is and where he's from and  _oh_. He looks up to both officers.

"Get it?" Horan asks, raising an eyebrow.

And yes, Louis does. Louis gets it. He nods, feeling his entire body settle down. He could do this.

When he was a kid, he was terrified someone was gonna find out how big of fraud he was. Between his weeks at his posh school on the northern side of town and his weekends messing shit up with Stan in the south, being exposed was his biggest fear. He didn't want any of his mates to find out about the other parts of his life. Louis spent his entire adolescence not quite being himself, fitting into the skin of people he had to be and today it's finally going to pay off.

He could do this.

"How does it work?" Louis asks, curious and a bit excited despite himself.

Horan and Payne share a look. "You get kicked out of the force," Liam starts.

 _Knew it_ , Louis can't help thinking with satisfaction.

"We can't hide that you were in training, it’ll be on record forever. But we can, and will, convict you of a crime. We're thinking assault or something like that. Violent enough to earn you a reputation. You’ll do jail time. Long enough to convince everyone it's real...You'll have to see a court ordered shrink. Be on probation. The whole thing. It has to look 100% legit. No one can question it. Has to be solid."

It's scary and dangerous, but it could make a true difference. He could be a key player in cleaning up their city, getting rid of organised crime. It's overwhelming. That's all Louis ever wanted.

"I'm in," he says, looking into Liam Payne's eyes. There is no hesitation, no question, in his mind. He’s going to do it and he’ll ace it.

 

*

 

The first time Nick met Simon Cowell he was only ten years old. It was old enough to know who Cowell was though and what it might mean for him. His heart was pounding because Cowell was bad, bad news, but he could also change a life. Cowell owns South Manchester. Truth to be told, he owns them all. Nick was ten at the time, but he wasn’t stupid. He had heard the stories. He knew what type of men Cowell was in the habit of making.

They had chatted briefly in Tesco about mundane things, unimportant things, like school and Nick’s late family. Cowell had payed for his groceries, given him the change and had left him with those words; "If you ever need anything, come and find me. You know where to find me, right?" Nicks had nodded obediently. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew where to find him. Simon Cowell was admired, respected and, most of all, feared. At the time, it had seemed appealing. 

Nineteen years later, when Simon (and Nick still has a hard time believing he gets to call him that) congratulated him on making it into the police force, he had felt on top of the world. But it was nothing like what he’s feeling now. Now, he got it. Now he’s finally made it into something that can be properly useful to Simon. Nick waits as his phone rings and rings and rings. He’s hiding in the loo, couldn’t bare the thought of waiting. He had to tell Simon right away. It’s risky, he knows it is, but he can't help himself. He’s done it. After years and years of school and pretending to be a nice boy, he’s finally in. The Criminal Investigation Department has no idea what will hit them.

"Nicholas?" the polite voice asks and it always takes him by surprise.

Cowell’s men are rude and ruthless. They’re crude, they’re loud. Simon is the opposite. He’s charming, proper. He sounds calm in any situation, which is partly what makes him so frightening. People never quite know when they’ll get hit by his particular brand of cruelty.

"Hey dad," Nick says, alerting Simon that he's not in safe territory and cannot speak as freely as he wishes.

"Have you got good news for me son?" Simon asks and Nick never quite knows if he’s joking when he says things like that.

Simon was there for Nick when no one really was. He took him under his wings, a forgotten child no one cared about, and forged him into the man he is today.  He was the only adult who bothered with him when he was spotty and gangly; an awkward orphan no one looked twice at. Nick never dared to ask Simon if he felt the same, but he always considered them family.

"Yeah..." Nick starts and he gets caught up in the emotion for a second. He did it.

"Well?" Simon asks and it’s not impatient exactly, but he does have the authority of a man who will not be kept waiting.

"You can’t call me Nicholas anymore… It’ll have to be DI Grimshaw." Nick knows he sounds bashful - which he never is - but this is a big deal. 

Simon laughs brightly and Nick’s heart is pounding with excitement at the sound.

"Now it begins," Simon says. 

 

*

 

When he was fifteen years old, Louis used to both fear and love his best mate Stan. They would get into all kind of trouble that made Louis breathless, fear obstructing the air's path to his lungs.  He was obsessed with the idea of getting caught doing something wrong and, sometimes, getting caught doing something right. His double reputations were one of the things that mattered the most for him. He used to say it didn’t, would deny it vehemently to anyone who dared ask.  He’d pretend it wasn’t a big deal, like he was much more mature than his peers and couldn’t be bothered by insignificant details such as image or status. He was a lying little shit, of course.

During those formative teenage years, Louis spent a lot of time thinking about jail. Unsurprising, considering his family and the company he kept. It would have been so easy for him to end up like thousands of other delinquents. A couple more mistakes, idiotic plans falling apart, being at the wrong place at the wrong time; so many different directions in which his life could have gone. He walked the line between his worlds carefully, never going too far in fear of being stuck on the wrong side. He was a good kid, he dares thinking it himself. But there was always this part of his life, this part of him, that was risky and impulsive, dangerous and provocative. It would have been easy- so so easy- for him to end up in trouble. Half of his family has done time at one point or another, so he thought about it. He thought about it a lot.

The reality of jail though ends up being completely different than anything he's ever imagined. Or anything he's been told. It's only six months. He has to repeat it to himself every day. It’s the first thought in his mind when he wakes up in the morning. It’s the lingering mantra he reassures himself with when the other inmates get a  bit too close for comfort. It follows him in the showers, it’s with him as he eats. It’s in every single brick of his cell and it’s painted in every corner of his mind. He repeats it to himself in the dark, trying to lull himself to sleep with its redundancy.

He knows this is only a prelude. It's the beginning of something bigger, rougher and scarier, but still. He wakes up everyday and has to fight for himself because he's small, he's new and he's far too pretty. He endures the catcalls and the slurs and the inappropriate touching. He breaks a few jaws to show he means business. Louis doesn't mind being called princess by a bunch of criminals if it means catching Simon Cowell in the long run. There is something much bigger than him in play and the memory of his goal is what gets him through each gloomy day inside.

He doesn't think about how validated Mark must feel or how disappointed his little sisters must be. He most certainly doesn't think about his mother, his beautiful loving mother, who believed in him more than anyone else and who never doubted. He almost thinks that he’s glad she died without seeing him in there before he catches himself. She would have been so disappointed… She's gone though, have been for a while now. As it is, there's no one else left to be disappointed in him so it hardly matters. Besides, Louis is doing this for the right reasons and  _it's only six months, only six months, there's just six little months…_

 

*

 

As expected, Nick finds his place quickly as a DI. In no time at all he is rising and rising, higher than even he thought he would. He’s on Paul Higgins’ radar, which is exciting not only because he’s DCI. Nick needs to be as important as possible. He needs to know everything, have eyes everywhere. Simon -  _everybody_  - is counting on him and he owes it to them.

“Grimshaw,” Higgins nods as he gets into the meeting. “Take a seat.”

Nick is not late exactly, but everyone is already here. There’s DCS Payne, DS Horan, a few DI and two unknowns. Nick can guess what this is about.

“Now that everyone is here, let’s get to business.” Higgins starts. “I think it’s safe to say you all guessed what this is.”

“We’re after Cowell, as you all know. We’ve decided, Paul and I with the help of our friends from SOCA,” Payne says pointing towards the unknowns, “to create a special unit focusing on that goal. You guys are the best and brightest. Don’t let us down.”

DCS Payne sits back down.  _Short and to the point_ , Nick thinks. This is good news. Simon would have been furious to learn of a special unit that Nick was not invited to be a part of.

“You’ll be working closely with me,” Higgins continues. “As you know, DCS Payne and DS Horan are responsible of our undercover unit, so you won’t be answering to them. Still, the two units will be working in close collaboration. We’re a team guys.”

“Do you have anyone with Cowell right now? If so, how many people?” Sheeran asks.

He's been promoted a few weeks after Nick and he'd never admit it out loud but the familiar face is a nice addition. They're not friends exactly, but Nick has to take a moment to admire his audacity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Horan mumbles, giving him a dark look. Payne makes eyes at him in response, the warning obvious to everyone in the room. 

Nick hides his grin in his cup of tea. Trouble in paradise, Simon will like that.

“This is not information we can share unfortunately,” Payne says diplomatically.

Paul humphs at that. “‘Course not,” he whispers to Nick. He shakes his head, glad to be, out of all the young DI in the team, the one Paul feels confident sharing things with.

“Heard you got a new flat?” Paul asks as Payne passes some files around. Pictures of Simon, Walsh and the others, criminal records and the likes, from the look of it.

“Yeah,” Nick replies. “Sort of congrats from me to me, you know? My old place was alright, but…” Nick trails off.

“You’re moving up in the world,” Paul says teasingly. “The rest has to keep up, right? Besides, you deserve it.” He grabs Nick’s shoulder for a second before giving his attention back to the meeting.

Nick tries to hide his smile and starts fiddling with his own folder. Simon’s face is glaring at him and Nick would almost feel guilty for not admitting who really paid for his brand new flat if he didn’t have a cover to maintain.

 

*

 

The first thing Louis does after getting out of prison is to visit his sister. Not the ones he wants to see, the ones he's forbidden to see. No. He gets in his crappy battered car and drives south. He hasn't been in the neighbourhood since his father died, has been avoiding it to be honest, but no more. Louis is back and he has to be seen. He's pretty nervous when he finally gets to the door, clutching the old family pictures he's using as a pretext tightly in his clammy hands. He can't help but to feel surprised when Stan is the one to answer. He's known, rationally, that they were together still, but knowing and seeing are two different beasts and Louis is not sure he can deal with them both at the same time.

"Hey," he says hesitantly.

Stan doesn't say anything and he certainly doesn't look impressed. He doesn't look like he's aged at all, still has that same fresh, youthful face. In comparison, Louis looks middle aged, with his five o'clock shadow and his tired bones. Stan's face is tainted with a frown though, closed like it's never quite been for Louis. But that was before Louis fucked off and disowned them all.

"How've you been mate?" Louis continues, trying to remain casual. "It's been ages," he adds because he can't not.

The thing is it  _has_  been ages and Stan is kind of a jerk, but he used to be one of Louis' best mate and Louis missed him. As stupid as it sounds. Stan nods, like it's an answer. Louis wants to scream and jump around and kick him or something. Like he used to.

"I wanted to see Georgia... Is she here?"

Stan just steps aside and lets him in.  _Great_ , Louis thinks. He's walking towards the kitchen automatically and a part of him can't believe she chose to stay here, in their dad's flat. He doesn’t have particularly bad memories of the place, that’s not it. It just feels strange to be back after so long.

"Hey, have you seen my keys?"

Louis hears her before he sees her and he's reminded of every single time he's failed at lying to her in the past. Once, Louis blamed Stan for the beheading of her favourite barbie and she had known, within seconds, that he was the culprit. Louis still doesn't know how she did it. He's always liked drama, considers himself a bit of a performer, and yet. She catches him every single time. Today though, everything depends on this one lie going undetected. She and Stan can make him or break him.

"Louis!" Georgia gasps when she sees him and Louis is the one who should be gasping because what happened to his little sister?

Her face is sharper, defined like it wasn't in her awkward teen years. She's taller as well. She looks grown up, Louis somehow hadn't expected that. He reminds himself quickly of the drug deals and all the other possible felonies before replying.

"Hey Georgie," he says before going for a hug.

She wraps her arms around him but he can feel her tense up. He can't really blame her when they haven't spoken in five years and the last thing he ever called her was a bitch. Looking back on it, fourteen year old Georgia hadn't deserved the insult and Louis' drunkenness at his dad's funeral is a pretty flimsy excuse for that particular comment. Even he can admit it. But nineteen years old, grief-stricken, completely pissed Louis had another opinion, obviously. Louis can't help but think this is going to be a tough one. He wishes he didn't have to do this. No, not exactly. He wishes it wasn't necessary for him to do this. In Louis' perfect world, he wouldn't need to apologize. If he were the better versions of himself he secretly constructs in his mind, Louis wouldn't have to say a thing, because fake and improved Louis doesn't hurt the people he cares about. Fake and improved Louis has healthy outlets for his emotions and he doesn't get shitfaced the day of his father funeral. Fake Louis doesn't insult his baby sister either. But Louis is merely Louis, with all the faults and shortcomings that come with it.

"How are you?" he asks, trying to hide his nervosity.

She lets him go and frowns. "I'm good."

There's a small pause and she just stares.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asks. It's neither cold nor warm. It just is and Louis doesn't know how to interpret that especially because this is it; the moment he's been preparing for, his big performance. 

"Oh, my step-dad sent some stuff after my mum's funeral..."

Louis stops for a few seconds. Maybe one day, mentioning Jay won't hurt as much. " My mum's dead," he adds as if he needed to clarify the meaning of funeral.

"We heard," Stan says and it's the first thing he's said to Louis. "I'm sorry."

Louis nods. "Yeah, well Mark sent me a bunch of stuff and there was some pictures of dad... I thought maybe you'd like to see them?" Georgia doesn't look convinced. "And I wanted to apologize. For what happened after dad..."

He can't even bring himself to say it. He's so ashamed. He had wanted to change his life at the time, to be better, to aim higher... He shouldn't have treated them the way he did. No matter how much he disagreed, and still disagrees, with their lifestyle. There's an awkward pause and Louis doesn't dare to look at them in the eyes. 

"I really am sorry," he finally admits staring at the ground and most definitely does not think about how fake Louis would at least manage eye contact during such a crucial moment. He doesn't, even if he knows that if it weren't for the assignment, he would have never had the courage to come up to them and say any of it. He would have remained too prideful, too ashamed, to ever say anything. Turns out this whole thing is beneficial for more than one reason. 

Stan huffs. "Took you long enough," he says and Louis knows, by the tone of his voice, that he's forgiven.

"Yeah," Louis agrees, already feeling lighter. "Things got a bit... fucked for awhile." 

Stan's gaze is curious. "I reckon it must still be, with jail and what not. Getting kicked out of the force."

Louis can't help his tone of surprise. "You heard?" he asks and he was expecting having to explain himself, tell his _story_.

"Was in the papers a while back," Stan simply says.

"Oh," Louis replies. He didn't know that. No one warned him about it. He's not sure if a warning would have made any of this easier. 

"You okay?" Georgia asks.

Louis laughs cheerfully, bright and fake. "Please, you know me. I'm always okay."

They share a look and a smile in response, and Louis thinks _victory_.

"You stayin' for dinner?" Georgia asks.

"Duh," Louis replies, easing himself back into those relationships. It's been a really long time. "Why do you think I'm here? Prison food sucks lemme tell you!"

"Leech!" Georgia says while Stan snorts. " Well you'd know all about that," she adds towards her boyfriend and that's new information Louis stores away to think about later, while he's not busy telling the biggest lie of his life.

Still, Louis allows himself a second to wonder what Stan did time for. It's not unexpected, of course not, but a bit surprising, definitely. Louis likes to think he would have heard about it. Somehow.

"What's on the menu?" he finally asks. He has to do this progressively. He actually has to remind himself that he hasn't spoken to them in five years because his body is vibrating with excitement towards what he's about to do. He'll get where he has to be. Eventually.

"Well, Georgia is as shit of a cook as you are so we were getting pizza... You still in?"

Louis nods. This feels a lot like stepping back in time. He almost feels fifteen again, stealing his dad's beer and watching football while Georgia is sleeping upstairs. Except he doesn't have a dad or a mum anymore. He doesn't have anything but lies to big for his mouth and a cloak of fear.

 

It doesn’t take them too long to get to the pizzeria. As soon as they arrive, Georgia spots an old mate from school and she leaves Louis stranded with Stan, her and her friend chatting excitedly in a corner. Louis knows he should say something. It’s the perfect opportunity. Georgia is too busy to pay them any attention and that's exactly what he wants. Maybe it's selfish or stupid, but he doesn't want to get his sister involve in this. He knows, rationally, that she is. She has the same connections Stan does. She does the same deals he does, but he wants to maintain the illusion. Not matter how flimsy it is. Georgia's absence means it's perfect. He can explain everything to Stan without her. Still, he eats his pizza slowly, uncertain as to how he should approach the subject.

As a child, Louis never used to hesitate. He was bold and brash; a real brat. Louis is not afraid to admit it. He could talk anyone's ears off and he'd never think before speaking. Now he’s nervous, fumbling for words like he never had to. Everything he wants to say sounds clumsy, inept. When he was kid, he'd tell his neighbour that her dress was ugly because it was and Louis wasn't going to apologize for it. He’d say when he didn’t like the gift offered to him, not to be rude but to be truthful. His mum used to laugh brightly, before scolding him softly whenever he was being cheeky or unknowingly impolite. She always saw it as a good thing. _Her honest, honest boy_ , she'd used say. There’s nothing honest about what he’s about to tell Stan and it sits uncomfortably in Louis' belly. 

"So I heard you and Georgie have a pretty good business going?" Louis says as a way to introduce the subject.

Stan raises his eyebrows. "Where did you hear _that_?" he asks.

Louis shrugs. "People talk inside. Tomlinson's not that common a name..."

"What about it then?" Stan asks, defensive as always.

Louis shrugs again. Pitiful performance, he can't help but criticize himself. " Nothing," he says half truthfully. Stan is even more defensive than Louis expected and it throws him off.

"You gonna tell me to stop my bullshit? To stay away from her? She's a big girl Lou, she can do what she wants!" Stan starts saying angrily and Louis' brain actually come to a halt for a second.

That’s not what he expected, at all.

"I know that!" he replies quickly, trying to think of a way to turn the conversation around, to bring them back into the right direction. "I’m not trying to give you shit, I swear. In fact... I was only curious 'cause, I've got a bit of money yeah? From me mum? And I wanted to know how much an investment could give me back? In your field, I mean."

Stan looks surprised at first, properly surprised, round eyes and everything. Louis is pretty proud he still manages to shock his friend. Then Stan looks skeptical and Louis knows what he says next is going to be important. He'll have to play his cards right.

"An investment?" Stan says slowly, suspicious and doubtful. 

"Yeah," Louis replies. "Say, with five thousand pounds? How much can I make?"

"Are you having me on?" Stan says seriously. Of course, anyone who grew up with Louis would know he’s always been up for a good prank, but surely Stan can see he’s not being mischievous.

"What?" Louis replies, trying his best to look offended. " 'Course not!"

"You've been a goody two shoes since I've known you Louis Tomlinson. Excuse me for being a little surprised. "

"I was never a goody two shoes!" Louis replies, slightly insulted.

He has been called many things in his life, especially in the last six months, but goody two shoes has certainly never been one of them. He's always tried to be as good as possible, that's certainly true. He's always aimed to be a good person, above anything else. But he's caused his fair share of trouble too. The fact that he wants to get his hands a little bit dirty shouldn't be that much of a shock. Louis is actually a bit offended at the thought. Stan is still looking at him suspiciously.

"Recently out of jail, remember?" Louis says, trying not to sound bitter.

"Doesn't mean anything..." Stan replies. "What's this seriously about Lou?"

Louis sighs, annoyed that Stan knows him so well. That's the thing with people you've known your entire life, there's no hiding from them. Not really. No matter how hard you try, they're always going to see through the cracks and poke where it hurts. "Me trying to make a bit of cash? Look my career plan's fucked. My mum's dead. My stepdad..." Louis stops himself.

"What?" Stan asks. "Your stepdad what?"

"I just want to make some easy cash, okay? If you can't help with that, fine." Louis says with finality. 

He's not going to go there. Not with Stan. He couldn't pretend to be nonchalant about his stepfather's rejection with Stan. And once he stops being nonchalant, he'll have nothing to hide behind. He'll have to think about it. He'll have to accept it. He'll probably cry and he doesn't the time or the energy for any of these things. He's got a mobster to fool. 

"I can," Stan says. "Just tryin' to make sure you're doing this for the right reason mate."

"What's a wrong reason then?" Louis asks because Stan needs to trust him. If he has any doubt, Louis has to reassure him. He's the gateway.

"You were in training Lou," Stan says looking straight in Louis' eyes. "People are gonna wonder."

"Wonder what?" Louis asks, even though he knows.

Stan tilts his head with a sigh, giving Louis a pointed look.

"No," Louis replies. "Really?" he asks, mentally congratulating himself for how incredulous he sounds.

"I'm just saying..." Stan starts.

"Just saying what? You really think the Criminal Investigation Department would put me in jail to go after a punk like you?" He says it with such finality, makes it sounds like it's the most absurd idea he's ever heard, and Louis knows he seems convincing.

Stan laughs awkwardly. "Can't blame me for checking," he says with a small shrug.

"Nah, it's cool," Louis replies, thrilled that his friend deems him worthy of trust. Despite everything. " I get it." Louis waits a few seconds before insisting. "So how much, do you think?"

Stan shakes his head, pizza in hand. "You're a fucker, you know that?" He takes a bite. "A corrupted fucker."

Louis chuckles. "Oops," he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

 

*

 

The next day, Louis has counseling for the first time. It's in a miserable building, on a miserable street and at a miserable hour. Of all the things he has to do, this is the one that bothers him the most. Louis is a private guy and there's nothing this Dr. Styles can do for him. Not in his situation.

 _And how pretentious of a name is that?_ Louis thinks all as he sits in the corridor, right next to the door. One of the leg of his chair is slightly shorter than the others. It makes an annoying thudding noise whenever Louis squirms, which to be fair is a lot. _Dr. Styles_ is taking his time and Louis is getting slightly more and more irritated. He barely slept; too wired up and nervous about everything to properly relax. Louis just wants this part of today to be over with so he can go back to being remarkably illegal and catch Cowell's eyes. The more he has to wait before meeting him, the more winded up he is, like he used to get a few days before a play at his posh school. He'd stay up for days, reciting his lines in bed and praying whoever would listen to make time go just a little bit faster, to make the waiting stop. The anticipation is killing him softly.

"Louis Tomlinson?" a deep voice asks.

Louis turns around and is faced with the single most attractive man he's ever seen. His heart actually stops. It's a little bit irritating really, what with the curls and the broad shoulder and the _mouth_.

"Are _you_ Louis Tomlinson?" Dr. Styles asks even though Louis is clearly the only person waiting.

"Yeah, that's me." Louis says as he gets up, willing himself to focus on anything but the fact that his therapist is very tall and very pretty. The chair protests a little as he moves and Louis gives it a nasty glare. "Your chair sucks," he says rudely because he doesn't have time for this therapy crap.

"The joy of being in public service!" Dr. Styles says, cheeks dimpling as he smiles to Louis and it's really stupidly unfair.

Louis has to have deep meaningful conversations with this guy. Apparently. He's actually supposed to concentrate long enough to achieve something that will satisfy his probation officer. He's pretty sure staring longingly for hours at the dent in his shrink's cheek doesn't qualify as making progress...

"You can call me Harry by the way," Dr. Styles says cheerfully as he walks back into his office and Louis automatically thinks it's the worst idea he's heard in his life. It's everything he wasn't expecting.

He was expecting some old pretentious intellectual bourgeois - with a name like _Styles_ \- who says "Yes" and "Go on" like in the movies. Instead he has a deerlike young man with a devastating face and a tendency to knock things over. He hasn't been in his office five minutes and he already crooked a diploma from the wall and sent a file from his desk flying. He's a menace, probably, and Louis is screwed. He can tell. Because Dr. Styles, _Harry_ , is endearing so far and that might be problematic. Still, Louis sits down awkwardly in front of the desk. Harry is still fumbling with the file he dropped on the floor, rearranging the pages in the right order.

"Sorry about that..." he says sheepishly, poiting to the mess he's made.

Louis shrugs. He doesn't particularly care how his sessions are spent. They're mandatory, another annoying step he has to take in order to get to his goal, not unlike selling drugs for Stan.

"Alright," Harry says when he finally gets everything in the appropriate order. He doesn't close the file, which Louis assumes is his. "Now. Louis. How are you?"

Louis shrugs again, staring at his fingers, pinching his thighs nervously. His therapist is way too attractive for eye contact right now. "I'm alright," Louis finally says. "You?"

"I'm fine," Dr. Styles replies, unfazed by Louis' attitude. "Do you know why you're here?"

Louis feels slightly insulted. He's not a complete idiot. "I'm here so I don't go back in jail," he says roughly.

Harry hums. "I guess... But this is more than that. I know it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but I can help. Help you understand how you got here and help you get the tools to make sure it doesn't happen again."

The guy is sweet is the thing. He sounds and looks sincere which makes Louis uncomfortable. His eyes are big and green, and Louis hadn't noticed before, but they're gorgeous, as earnest as Harry looks. 

"I'm here because I beat up some guys in a pub. It's not rocket science!" Louis exclaims.

He's not going to let himself open up to this guy. That can't be allowed. Besides, he can't really say that he _had_ to go to jail for a job. There's a reason it's called being undercover and he's certainly not going to crack for a pretty face. He hasn't even met Cowell yet.

"And why did you do that Louis?" Harry asks patiently, still calm despite Louis' aggressivity.

"He was pissing me off!" Louis replies.

"What did he say?" Harry asks. "What happened?"

Louis is baffled. He beat some guys up because they were being loud and homophobic and mostly _because he was told to_. "I don't remember," Louis lies.

Harry smiles softly. "Okay," he replies.

"I don't!" Louis insists. "I was properly smashed."

"Okay," Harry repeats. "We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to," he adds, letting Louis know he's not fooling anyone.

"What are we going to talk about then?" Louis challenges, sliding a little further down in the chair.

He reminds himself of his teenage self, torn between knowing he should behave and the inexplicable desire to rebel, to shake this Dr. Styles a little, to provoke him. The small voice in his head that sounds like fake and improved Louis calls him a dick, but he can’t help himself. His own dedication to his role actually astounds him a little.

"What do you want to talk about?" Harry asks, unfazed by the whole thing. Louis adds _chill_ to the list of Harry's characteristics he's most definitely not writing in his mind.

"Ideally I wouldn't be talking about anything, because I wouldn’t be talking to you," Louis replies.

It’s harsh, but true. While this is another step towards the veracity of his story, Louis is wasting precious time. He could be selling right now. Or beating some punk up. Or vandalizing some shit. Anything illegal and flamboyant to make sure he’s noticed. Louis can’t help but feel really strange about it. A few months ago, his to do list most certainly did not include _anything_ illegal.

"Fair enough," Harry says. "But you're here. You have to be here regardless of what you want and it'd make my job a lot easier if you cooperated."

Louis spends the next fifty-five minutes not cooperating.

 

*

 

He’s in a pub with Stan, a few days later, and Louis is a bit bored if he's being honest. He was expecting this whole selling drugs thing to be a bit more exciting. It's quite mundane so far. See the clients, sell the thing, go back home. Repeat. It's not enough. If he wants to get noticed by Cowell, he's going to have to be a lot more remarkable than that. Stan is talking excitingly; loud and bright and annoying like he always was. If he’s being completely honest with himself, Louis kind of missed that. He missed having someone to be exuberant with, having someone as hyped and filled with mischief as him. He hasn't had that in quite a while. It’s both wonderful and painful at the same time, but the joy it gives Louis is well worth the phantom ache it always brings.

Suddenly, there's a loud noise towards the entrance and Louis Walsh walks in. Louis holds his breath for a second before going back to his glass. He’s cool. This is cool. Subtlety is the key. Louis has to look like he doesn’t know Cowell’s right-hand man just walked in. This could be anybody, no big deal, nobody cares. Louis is pretty sure his hands are trembling.

"Shit," Stan says. "Walsh is here."

" Who?" Louis asks, turning back to look at the man again.

He looks kind and it’s really disturbing to know that this smiling middle-aged face belongs to a killer. Louis shivers at the thought. It always makes him feel uncomfortable, the way people are never exactly what they seem. Always hiding behind necessary masks, never one hundred percent themselves.

Stan is looking at him incredulously. "Louis Walsh," he whispers. "I know you’ve been gone a long time but surely you remember him. He’s...you know. Cowell’s… Well he’s Cowell’s everything."

"Oh," Louis replies, pretending to remember. "So he’s like what? Second in command?"

Stan nods quickly.

"Stanley!" Walsh yells towards them.

Stan looks worried for a second before getting up and walking towards Walsh’ table. Louis can’t help but feel slightly concerned. He doesn't know what kind of relationship Stan and Georgia have with Cowell and his crew. None, he foolishly hopes. Whatever that particular relationship is, Walsh's tone and angry eyes can't be good news for his mate. He tries to listen in discreetly, eyes locked onto his beer.

"Who the fuck is he?" Louis manages to hear Walsh say and oh, this could actually be good news if things go his way.

"Louis Tomlinson," Stan replies. "Dannii’s nephew. Just got out… Good kid."

Louis can’t help but laugh quietly at Stanley’s attempt to make him sound appealing and most importantly unthreatening. His aunt Dannii had completed the trio back in the days, before being shot a few years before Louis’ father’s death. This name-dropping is most certainly not coincidental. Stan is trying to protect him. It’s pretty sweet, but still worries Louis a little. His thoughts are interrupted when he hears his father being mentioned.

"His old man wasn’t really reliable," Walsh is saying and Louis tightens his fist around his pint. "His aunt Dannii was amazing though."

"Dannii was a star!" Stan agrees. "The very best!"

"Go back to your mate and stop dealing in our neighbourhood or I’ll have to send someone to visit you and dear Georgie and we don’t want that, right?"

Louis frowns at the comment. Is Stan in trouble?

"Yeah, no. Thanks Walsh," Stan replies and Louis can tell from his tone that he’s scared, even though he’s trying to hide it.

Stan gets back to Louis and he doesn’t even bother sitting. He's jittery and intense. He takes a big gulp of beer, then thugs at Louis’ arm. "Come on Lou, let’s go," he says, almost dragging him outside.

"You ok?" Louis asks as he’s getting up. "He didn't..." Louis starts, looking back, unsure what to say.

Stan shakes his head quickly, clearly unwill to get into it. As they get out, Louis can feel Walsh’s burning gaze on him.

Now all he has to do is something crazy enough for them to want him.

 

*

 

"What have you been up to?" Harry asks softly at their next session.

The kid is clearly learning and he understood last week that anything about Louis’ past is off limits. It's good, but it still doesn’t mean Louis is going to make it any easier for him. They have boundaries. Well, Louis has boundaries. And it means he's not going to waste energy on opening up to Dr. Styles. He won't no matter how nicely he asks. He won't fall for it.

He simply shrugs in response to Harry. He’s trying really really hard not to think about the sound of bones breaking and the metallic smell of blood. "Not much," he lies. 

He had to do it, he keeps telling himself. He just had to. The men were Cowell’ enemies and destiny, or fate, or something, put them on Louis’ path. He had to take it as a sign. Beating them up was the logical thing to do, a certainty that they would remember him, that everyone would remember him. Still, Louis has barely slept since then.

"Seen any friends? Talk to family? Done anything you weren’t supposed to?" Harry lists them all casually, but Louis can’t help but have the feeling that this Styles guy is reading his mind. It’s unnerving.

Louis can’t help raising his head at that, staring right into Harry’s green eyes. He knows he probably have a deer caught in headlights expression and he loathes himself for it.

"What?" he asks because he’s certainly not going to admit anything. How does that guy even knows? How could he possibly have figured it out? Is he a wizard or something? It's ridiculous, but in that instant, it almost makes sense to Louis. 

"You’re pretty hard to read Louis," Harry admits. "But you haven’t stopped fidgeting ever since you came in and… I don't know, I have this feeling..." Harry stops for a few seconds, looking for the right word. "Anyway, you look like you want someone to ask about it so… Do you wanna talk about it?"

Louis really really does. Because it was awful and it weighs on him, dragging him down. The thought of having to carry this, and the next millions other horrible things he’ll have to do, for the rest of his life, is simply terrifying.

"It’s complicated," he simply says. The sounds were the worst thing, he thinks instead.

"It’s okay if it is," Harry replies and he has this deep soothing voice that makes Louis’ skin tingles. He wishes he could record it to help himself sleep.

"I don’t want to talk about it!" Louis says firmly.

As he says it, Louis realizes that it's only partially true. He wishes he could share, yes, but he also doesn’t want Harry to think poorly of him. It’s a perturbing realization that has Louis sighing loudly.

"This is a safe space..." Harry starts.

"Oh, fuck off, yeah?" Louis laughs bitterly. "A safe space my arse… Let’s not forget why we’re here okay."

"Yeah," Harry agrees and his tone is serious like Louis has never heard it before, which is not exactly saying much since they’ve only met twice, but still. "I’m the one who’s here because I want to help.”

Louis doesn’t know or understand why he’s being such an arsehole, but he can’t help himself. He’s trapped, and confused, and so, so guilty. He destroyed another man face, he’s pretty sure that doesn’t deserve kindness or help. Harry is looking at him expectantly though and Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t really know anything. Horan is on his back, pushing to go faster and _get the fuck in Tomlinson, this is literally the longest foreplay in history just get IN!_ So he’s trying, he’s trying his hardest to be ruthless, but he’s not. He’s never been ruthless. It’s only been a couple of weeks and he can feel himself wavering. How lame is that?

He takes a deep breath.

"When I say it’s complicated, I mean it. I can’t… I can’t tell you, even if I wanted to. I just can’t." Louis knows he sounds desperate but he needs Harry to understand. He has to do this therapy thing and Harry is actually kind of nice so he’d very much like to keep him thank you. He's not sure anyone else would let him stay silent for so long or take his onomatopoeia half as seriously or even have curls as pretty. "I did do something I’m not proud of," Louis admits. “Still don’t know how you figured it out,” he mumbles.

"We all do things we’re not proud of," Harry says, ignoring Louis’ last comment. He’s probably aiming for comforting. It’s oddly effective. 

Louis laughs. "Yeah, I guess so," he replies with a vulnerability he wishes he could crush.

If it were a person, Louis would smash them into pieces and he wouldn’t even feel guilty about it. No one would ever see Louis at his worse and the world would be so much better for it. At least, Louis would feel much better for it anyhow.

"I’m not sure how to deal with it" Louis admits. "It’s not… It’s something I had to do, you know? I know I had to, but still, I’m not proud of it."

"You never have to do anything, you know. I know, sometimes it feels like it, but… You can always change your mind. You don’t have to do anything Louis."

Louis does. Louis has things to do and he doesn’t want to change his mind. He really doesn’t. He’s doing something really properly important for the first time in his life. Changing his mind now? It’d be giving up on this dream, like he’s given up on everything else, and he can’t do that again. He can’t give up anymore. It doesn’t really matter if he gets hurt in the process. Other people will be better off and that’s the only thing Louis must think about.

"Sometimes you have to do things. Duty is important," Louis replies firmly because he’s right and it is.

"Not if it makes you unhappy," Harry argues.

"You’re such a hippy, flower man-child," Louis replies and the teasing tone escapes from him before he can reel it back in.  _Boundaries!_ his conscience yells. 

Harry actually looks insulted. "I’m deep," he argues. "I’m a professional who knows his… things."

Louis raises his eyebrows in doubt, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in his ears. "You’re a cynic," Harry adds.

"Is that you’re professional opinion?" Louis asks and suddenly it’s flowing really easily and wasn’t Louis supposed to keep his distance and not cooperate? 

Harry nods, biting his lips and it makes him prettier, naive. "Yeah," he says. " It is."

 

*

 

Louis goes back to the pub. He knows it's one of Cowell's men's hangouts so he goes night after night. It's only been a few days since he completely destroyed the McGuiness brothers and Louis knows that they'll seek him out eventually. They'll have to. He still sells for Stan, even more enthusiastically now that he knows Cowell, or at least Walsh, doesn't like it. He shows up at the house for dinner a couple of times a week as well and it's almost like having a family again. Louis tries very hard not to get used to it because he knows it'll have to be temporary. Things are about to get very dangerous, very fast and he doesn't want them to be collateral damage. Still, Stan heard about the brothers and if Stan heard, then everyone heard. Everyone in South Manchester knows that Louis Tomlinson beat up the McGuiness and that includes Simon Cowell. The next move is his.

In the pub, on the streets, they're all looking at him with a mix of pity, pride and envy, like they don't quite know if they want to be him or never be associated with him. It's an odd mixture, but it ensures he's left alone most times, which he doesn’t dislike. He can drink his beer in peace, waiting for _them_ to make contact. The only downside is the disappointed gaze Stan gave him when he learned. They didn't talk about it, but Louis could tell. Louis can always tell. Still, he ignores the shame clawing its way up his throat and he waits.

The evening is stretching and still no one comes. Louis can't help but think that he wasted his time again. That is until he hears the door opening and the creepy silence following. It’s abnormal in a place like this where everything and everyone is loud with laughter, with shouts. It’s almost eerie. It certainly is frightening and there are only a few people that could gather that kind of reaction. It’s not until he hears someone settle down right next to him that Louis knows for sure that this is what he’s been waiting for.

“Do you know who I am?” A deep voice asks and Louis risks turning his head.

He doesn’t mean to stare, but Simon Cowell, _Simon fucking Cowell_ , is sitting next to him and asking if he knows him as if the whole of South Manchester doesn’t bow to him. Simon is just looking at him, normal as you please, but Louis is still terrified.

“No,” he lies nonchalantly. Cowell will see right through it, obviously. The man actually snickers slightly.

“No?” Simon repeats after him and there is a hint of mockery in the question.

“We’ve never met before,” Louis replies, shrugging. “So no.”

Simon nods slowly, looking pensive. Still, from what Louis’ heard, he always looks deep in thoughts so it might not mean anything particular.

“Come with me,” he says getting up.

“Why?” Louis asks, getting more and more nervous.

Louis hadn’t noticed before, but Louis Walsh is standing by the door. This can’t be good news.

"‘Cause I fucking said so,” Cowell replies.

He doesn’t sound threatening at all. It would almost sound sweet if it weren’t for the curse. Louis has never followed an order quicker in his entire life though, spurred on by the man's sheer presence. He gets up, trying not stumble while getting off his stool. His heart is pounding, beating, pumping furiously. He can feel it in every inch of his skin, its drums the only noise in his ears. He silently hopes it’s not as loud as it feels as he reaches Walsh. He doesn't want them to hear his nerves and intensity. They belong to him alone. Walsh puts a firm hand on his shoulder, leading him the right way and preventing any future escape plan Louis might have had. Like he’d ever try something stupid like that. 

They get outside and Louis is manhandled towards a small alley. This could mean he’s finally getting what he’s worked so hard for. Or he’s slowly walking towards his death. Louis reckons it’s 50/50 at this point, which are surprisingly good odds. He gets pushed towards the brick wall, his small “fuck” silenced by the thud of his back hitting it violently. Maybe 30/70 then. 

“Remember me?” Walsh says and Louis nods quickly.

“Yeah, you were talking to my mate Stan last week,” he simply replies.

“Don’t play dumb with us, sweetheart,” Cowell says. “It doesn’t suit you well.”

Louis gulps. “You’re quite infamous ‘round here, yeah?” he simply replies. 

Cowell smiles softly. “There. Was it so hard? How about the McGuiness brothers? Know them as well?”

The condescension rubs Louis the wrong way.

“Yeah…” he replies with arrogance. He’s not quite sure where’s this bravado is coming from, but he’ll take it.

“And you still beat them up?” Walsh asks.

“They deserved it,” Louis replies quickly.

It’s neither true nor false. The McGuiness brothers are terrible people. That's a fact. They've never hurt Louis himself, but he's pretty sure they've done a great number of things that would deserve a beating - and Louis likes to reassure himself with that thought when he can't fall asleep at night, memories of their bloodied face flashing like stobe lights in his mind. As it stands, Louis' actions bathe in the in between, painted various shades of grey, like everything else in Louis’ life, especially his morals.

“Perhaps,” Cowell agrees. “They’re gonna want revenge, you know that?”

“So?” Louis says. “That’s my problem.” Terrifying, but true. 

“Except since they got beat up on my territory, it’s mine as well,” Cowell argues.

They’re all silent for a few moments, staring hard at each other. Louis needs them to invite him in, somehow.

“Would you like me to do something about it Louis?” Cowell finally offers.

Relief floods through his veins, warm like sunlight.

“Do something?” Louis asks, fishing for details of what that would entails and if it’s what he wants. He doesn't want to seem too eager.

“Stop them from retaliating, if you will,” Cowell explains.

“I can take care of myself thank you Mr. Cowell,” Louis replies, pride getting in his way as usual.

“Of course,” Simon replies. “No one’s denying that. But maybe you don’t want to? Maybe you’d like to let someone else take care of it? I’m offering that.”

“And what’s the price of that, Sir?” Louis asks because nothing is free, especially not for men like these.

“Stop making drug deal with you sister and her fucking boyfriend, for starters,” Cowell says.

It's a fair enough request, one that he expected. The prospect of distancing himself from them again is not something Louis is looking forward to. It'll be safer that way though. Walsh is still holding him against the wall and he applies slightly more pressure against Louis' shoulder. Louis winces at the harsh treatment before nodding slowly. Simon raises his eyebrows.

“Use your words love. Are you going to stop making deals on my streets?” He says it deliberately slow.

“Yeah,” Louis says, rendered breathless from the pain in his shoulder.

“Good,” Cowell says. “Now Mr. Walsh here is going to search you.”

“What the fuck?” Louis says, outraged as he’s being turned roughly, face smashed against the bricks.

“I’m afraid that’s simply the procedure, especially with such a special case as yourself.”

Walsh’ hands are unkind, pressing violently against every inch of his body. He’s taking his time as well, checking Louis properly, using the opportunity to roughen him up. His cheek is grazing against against the wall and Louis takes a second to hope it doesn’t leave a mark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asks through gritted teeth.

“Louis,” Cowell says condescendingly.

“He’s clean,” Walsh finally says.

He still keeps Louis pressed against the wall though. He can’t see a thing, can hear them behind him and he feels uncomfortably out of control and vulnerable. This is not what he wants.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis repeats, insistent.

He needs them to let him go. He can feel his skin becoming scratchy, tight. He knows it’s only a little while before his breathing starts speeding up.

“Are you still a cop?” Cowell asks and for the first time his voice is cold.

“What?” Louis says with an incredulous tone. He didn't think they would suspect him so quickly.

“Are you?” Cowell repeats and Louis almost wishes he was shouting.

“No,” he protests.

Walsh slams his head brusquely against the wall and Louis explodes with pain. White. Noiseless. Brutal. He is nothing but pain.

“Swear to me you’re not still a cop.”

Louis can’t breath. He can’t see. His head is spinning and he is going to throw up or pass out.

“Swear to me,” Cowell repeats.

“I’m not, I’m not!” Louis yells out quickly, voice shaky. They can't hit him again, not yet. The world is spinning too fast for that. 

Walsh turns him around again and punches him the stomach.

“Swear!” Cowell says coldly.

“I swear!” Louis cries out breathlessly. “I’m not. I’m not a cop. I’m not a fucking cop.”

Walsh finally lets him go and Louis collapse, sliding off the wall weakly. He falls to the floor, sitting, legs twisted, still shuddering. Cowell kneels next to him and puts a large hand to the back of Louis’ head.

“Shhh, shhhh,” he says. “You’re okay. Sorry Tomlinson, had to check.” He’s slipping his fingers through Louis’ hair slowly, violating him softly.

“You did good,” he praises and Louis wants to puke on him. “Payne is such a fucker you know? I had to make sure, I had to check.”

Simon is still talking softly, fingers going through Louis’ hair. If he closes his eyes, Louis can almost imagine his mum’s voice, helping him through every single crisis he’s ever face, but the hand is bigger, the alley is cold and the voice is wrong. Louis is alone with a killer.

“You’re gonna be good Louis,” Cowell says, reassuring. “If you’re anything like Dannii, you’re gonna be so good.” He gets up after that, brushing the dirt off his expensive jeans and giving Walsh a pointed look.

“Here,” Walsh says, throwing something on Louis’ lap. It’s an old mobile.

“When that rings, you answer.”

It takes Louis fifteen minutes to be able to get up after that and still, he can’t stop shaking from the shock of it all. It worked. It actually worked. They believed him. They believed him and he’s not dead. His fingers are clumsy on the keys as he calls Liam to tell him the good news once he gets back to his flat. He’s aching all over. He’s bloody terrified.

He can't believe it actually worked.

 

*

 

Nick is getting into the elevator when he bumps into what must be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Oh, sorry,” Green Eyes says and Nick is pretty sure he’s one of those counsellors guys, the one that helps with the trauma of cops using their weapons - helping out the pussies of the force in Nick’s mind. Although to be fair, it englobes pretty much everyone at the station, if Nick is to be trusted.

“Sorry there,” Nick says with a charming smile, one hand on the pretty boy’s hip. It’s a lot of touching for a first encounter, but Nick has never been very subtle.

“Didn’t see you there,” he adds cheekily, stroking where is thump is digging into the other guy’s flesh.

Green Eyes blushes a little and fidgets with his hair for a few seconds. “That’s alright,” he says with a smile. “No harm done.”

“How about dinner tonight? To make up for it?” Nick offers.

“S’a bit presumptuous, innit?” Pretty Boy replies, eying where Nick is still touching him.

“Well,” Nick shrugs. “Have you seen you? Can’t blame me for trying.”

Pretty Boy looks unsure. He seems flattered by the attention, but he keeps glancing towards the lift. Nick can't let this one go. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he insists, finally putting his hand away to look through his suit pockets. He fishes his card out and hands it. “Give me a call love, yeah?”

Pretty Boy takes the card and bites his lips. “Right,” he says. He looks on the card. “DI Grimshaw,” he adds.

“Nick,” he replies simply.

“Listen Nick, I have an appointment upstairs, but…” He shrugs.

“I’ll pick you up at 8?” Nick offers. “Just text me your address…?” he trails off, hoping Green Eyes will offer a name.

“Dr. Styles,” he replies with a smirk and Nick loves his cheek already. “But you can call me Harry.”

Harry disappears in the elevator quickly and Nick grins thinking about that mouth. He’ll definitely have a great night, he can tell.

 

*

 

“What happened to your cheek?” Harry asks the very next day.

Louis thought he’d actually done a good job of covering the red, swollen marks on his face. A bit of Georgie’s make-up he’d borrowed (without permission) and an adolescence in various drama clubs should have been tools appropriate enough for the task. Either Louis overestimated himself or Harry has excellent observation skills.

“Nothing,” he says, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his jumper.

It’s slightly too big, the sleeves covering half of his hands, engulfing his smaller frame, but it’s Louis’ favourite. It’s warm in every sense of the word; a deep rich red and soft enough to cure any sorrows. It’s the next best thing to a hug. And Louis needs one of those even though he'd never ask. 

“You’re gonna have to stop lying to me at some point Louis,” Harry replies and he has this way of not enunciating properly that should be really irritating, but somehow ends up being slightly adorable. Or maybe that’s just Louis.

“Not lying,” Louis protests and he knows he sounds petulant.

“Well either you’ve started wearing makeup on a whim or something did happen?”

“What’s wrong with wearing makeup?”Louis asks, just to be irritating. 

“It doesn’t even fit your skin tone,” Harry replies, with a smirk.

“I’m not lying,” Louis insists. “It was nothing.”

It was the biggest thing ever, he wants to yell. He’s proud. He’s terrified but he’s proud and he’d like to share it, even though he can’t. 

“Just a stupid accident,” he adds quickly. “Clumsy me,” he crinkles his nose as he says the words.

“Okay,” Harry agrees, as he always does. Louis is not an expert in therapies, it’s his first one after all, but surely there should a be a bit more pushing? “What about prison? What was it like for you?”

Louis shakes his head. Harry is incorrigible. He’s calm. He’s always so damn calm and he asks the same questions over and over. Differently of course, but he doesn’t give up. He just questions Louis relentlessly, trying to get him to open up. He’s paid for it of course, but Louis hasn’t had someone relentlessly interested in him in a long time.

“That’s the third time you’ve asked me that,” Louis simply replies.

“Yes it is,” Harry agrees.

“The answer hasn’t magically changed,” Louis sing songs.

“The answer you gave me was a non-answer.”

“It’s the only one I have,” Louis shrugs.

“For now it’ll do,” Harry replies half-heartedly.

He starting to get sick of it, Louis can tell. But Harry can't give up. He's not allowed. He puts a hand to his hair, shaking the curls off his face with the tiniest sigh.

“It was hard,” Louis admits in a small voice, gaze locked on the rug. It was the damn sigh in the end.

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s respectful in a way, like Harry knows how difficult that was, and he’s letting Louis gather his thoughts and courage.

“I… I grew up in a rough neighbourhood, you know?” Louis starts, nervously pinching his fingers. “But I never… I never was in that rough of an environment before, you know? Not like that.”

“Did something happen to you?”

Louis laughs and shakes his head. He finally looks up. Harry is biting his lower lip and looks genuinely concerned. “No, ‘course not. It’s just… You’re there and it’s…”

Louis can’t seem to grasp what he wants to say. The answer is there, right at his fingertips, but he can’t quite reach it. He’s not sure he can explain the experience properly. He's not sure it's something anyone can explain. It has to be lived and breathed. Words are weak for the lonely nights and days spent in a cell.

“You’re there in a room full of… killers. Actual killers, you know? People who have killed.”

Louis is rambling furiously and he’s not even sure he’s still talking about jail anymore. His fingers stroke his injured cheek absently and he takes a deep breath.

“Killers are people who have killed, did you know?" Louis mocks, rolling his eyes at himself. He sighs. He feels like such an idiot. "It’s kind of hard to wrap your mind around that sort of thing I guess,” Louis finishes clumsily as he wipes the makeup off his fingers on his jeans.

“Were you scared?” Harry asks.

Louis nods slowly. He’s been scared ever since he said yes.

 

*

 

Louis is leaving Harry’s office when the phone rings. _The_ phone. Not the phone Liam got him, the other one. The red one. _Red like danger_ , Louis always thinks mockingly. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“Get to the pub Tomlinson,” a grumpy voice says before the line goes dead.

Louis frowns, trying to recognize the voice. It was neither Walsh nor Cowell and could be any of their minions. Still, he shakes his head and start walking. He texts Stan quickly, apologizing for having to miss dinner. He hopes his friend won’t suspect anything. He’s seen the looks Stan, and even Georgia, have been giving him. He should be used to disappointing them. He's bathed in that guilt for the past five years. This is not news. And yet, his heart clenches painfully at the thought. _Okay_ is phone simply says. A four letter response that has more impact on him than Louis wants to admit.

He shakes his head, frees himself of doubts and worry, and accelerates. It's the first time they've called, the last thing he wants is to be late. When he gets in, the pub is empty save for the aging barman and a shaking woman, alone in a dark corner. Louis scratches the back of his neck slowly as he walks towards a table.

"Hey!" the barman says and Louis stops.

"Yes?" he asks as he turns back.

The barman gestures silently towards a door in the corner, next to the loo. Louis walks back to the door and knocks softly. It opens and all he can see is someone’s back; quite a warm welcome then. He gets in. There’s Walsh and two people Louis has never met. Or even heard of. 

“Tomlinson, this is Tom Parker,” Walsh says, pointing towards the first guy. He’s wearing sunglasses inside and Louis already has a bad feeling about him. Parker nods simply but doesn’t greet him. “And this is Zayn,” he adds.

“No last name?” Louis says.

“Malik,” Zayn replies, offering him a hand and Louis is a bit relieved to see that being a criminal doesn’t necessarily mean being a douche.

“Louis Tomlinson”

“Dannii’s nephew,” Zayn says.

“If you can be half of what she was we're in for a treat,” Parker comments and it’s still not a greeting. _Rude_ , Louis thinks.

“I’ll do my best,” he shrugs. Zayn smirks at him and rolls his eyes, as if to say _forget him_.

“You’re with us tonight Tomlinson,” Walsh says and Louis nods.

He doesn’t wonder what they’ll be doing as he gets into an old van with them. He already knows it’s going to be bad. They reach a flat complex and Zayn parks illegally, clearly not caring. Louis’ hands are hitching at the clear infraction. He shakes his head. _Priority Louis,_ he thinks quickly.

“Where are we?” he whispers in Zayn’s ears.

“Cal’s buildings. He owes Cowell a great deal.”

“What do we do then? Beat him up?”

Zayn shakes his head and laugh softly. “Nah,” he replies. He points towards a car.

A few minutes later Louis is one with the honour of blowing it up. He runs behind Walsh, Parker and Zayn, ducks behind their old truck and stops breathing as the car goes up into flames. He can’t help his involuntary jerk, eyes wide as the night becomes orange. He feels a hand holding his shoulder and when he turns he’s not surprise to meet Zayn’s serious face. He nods quickly and Zayn thightens his grasp for a second before hurrying everyone in what Louis now assumes is his car.

Zayn drops Parker off first, then Walsh and suddenly it’s just the two of them in the car and a heavy silence.

“ Where do you want me to drop you off?” Zayn asks politely.

“Oh, the pub’s fine,” Louis replies with a small smile. It’s as polite as Zayn, generic and impersonal.

“I can drop you home mate, I don’t mind,” Zayn insists and it both charms and irritates Louis because while it’s a kind offer, he really needs a drink. Urgently.

“Nah,” Louis protests, still secretly shaken. “It’s fine. I could use the walk.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything for awhile, eyes fixed on the road. “How about a drink?” he offers. “Could you use that?”

Louis stares, surprised. He expected to be less obvious than that. Zayn just laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t look so terrified. Everyone’s a bit fucked after the first time. Why did you think I was dropping you last?”

“Oh,” Louis simply says. He keeps being surprised.

"Come on!" Zayn says when they reach the pub.

They get into a dark corner and Zayn leaves to buy them some pints. Louis still feels a bit jittery. He can't quite believe he did that. He knew he'd get there eventually, the misbehaving and illegality, but it's still a shock. The car burns in his mind, an indefinite loop of noises and fire.

"So, first blown up car then? " Zayn asks when he gets back to their table.

Louis gives up any pretense. "That obvious?" he asks with a small smile.

Zayn shrugs and takes a gulp. "They always recruit little shits who think they’re tough and then they show them what tough really is. Then, they see who’s worth it."

"Were you?"

"A little shit?" Zayn asks. "The biggest little shit Tommo."

Louis smiles a little at the familiar nickname. They called Dannii that and Louis, as a kid, used to think it would make him look tough to copy it. Stan still uses it when he’s being particularly obnoxious. If Zayn starts this new trend, there’s a chance they might respect him in the end.

"Nah, I meant worth it. Were you worth it?" Louis says teasingly. He’s being a proper shit, he knows, but he quite likes Zayn so far. He’d like them to be… Well not friends. His deception can’t allow it, but something close. Comrades. Brothers in arms. Or something.

To his credit, Zayn doesn’t even looks insulted. He just raise an eyebrow questioningly. "I’m still here aren’t I?" he simply replies.

"Fair enough," Louis says.

Zayn has a strange look on his face then. He stares at Louis intensely with dark soulful eyes. He’s probably the most attractive human Louis has ever seen. Objectively. It’s the cheekbones, Louis thinks. He feels no attraction or jealousy towards him, but he can't help that but think that Zayn belongs on a runway somewhere in Europe rather than in a dirty street in Manchester. Zayn doesn't falter. He sucritinizes Louis for a really long time.

"Yeah," he finally says. "You’ll do."

 

*

 

" Microprocessors." DS Horan opens with. No hello cunts or yo, or crazy moffos or any of his usual theatrics. Nick is slightly confused. Niall Horan is usually ruder and more colourful than this. This is going to be important. 

"Microprocessors?" Higgins asks, frowning, clearly irritated that he hasn’t been debriefed first.

They’re standing next to each other, puffing out their chest, trying to look tough. Their rivalry is one of Nick’s greater joy at work. He mentally notes to text Simon about it. He always do love cops fighting over stupid stuff. Especially if said stupid stuff is something he's done. 

“Microprocessors. Their planning a deal with some Asian drug lord. Latest technology.”

“Military?” Nick asks, even though Simon already told him everything.

Horan nods, a grave look on his face. “This is bad news guys. We have to intercept that deal.”

“Can’t the undercovers help?” Nick asks, fishing for information. He knows, rationally, that there is very little chance he’ll ever get anything, but he’ll die trying.

Horan glares at him. “That’s for me to know and you to keep wondering.”

Nick nods. He’ll get there eventually.

“How did Cowell even get microprocessors?” Paul finally asks. “That’s not exactly his usual area…”

DS Horan drops the picture of a corpse, near a dumpster. “We found him a couple hours ago. Billy Donovan.”

“Billy Donovan?” Nick says, trying to get a closer look to the picture. Simon didn’t say who was involved and there is not much of a face left for him to recognize.

There is a little silence as the entire team stares at him. Nick shrugs. “We went to school together. Same footie team.”

Paul sighs, shakes his head and turns his attention back to Niall Horan. “Let me guess. From South Manchester, worked for a big shot technology company for a while, steals some shit and disappears until we get this,” he says pointing towards the photograph in the middle of the table.

“Good boy,” Horan replies. “10 out of 10.”

Paul shrugs. “Well, Cowell is known for using them and tossing them.”

“True. Not many long-term relationships, unless you count Walsh of course.”

Paul sniggers. “The romance of the century,” he mocks.

Nick laughs, because it is true in a way, though he’d never say it in front of either of them. They’re quite famous for their bickering and their schemes, a true inseparable duo.

“Anyway,” Paul says, bringing them back on track. “Who do you have on the case? The Donovan case.”

Horan shrugs. “Fincham,” he replies.

Paul turns towards Nick. “Help him out, will you? You can talk to his family and friends. They might be a bit more cooperative if it’s someone familiar.” Nick nods although he highly doubts that’ll be the case if his memories of Mrs. Donovan are correct. He tunes out for the rest of the meeting, uninterested in their babbling and excited for his new case. He gets to Fincham’s office directly afterwards, ready to take it on.

 

”Fuck off” is the first and only thing that Mrs. Donovan tells Nick and Fincham when she sees them on her porch.

”Mrs. Donovan!” Nick says through the door she quickly slammed in their face. ” We’re here to help. We only want to catch the people who hurt your son,” he lies. He knows who hurt her son and to be honest, she probably does too.

They wait a few minutes, staring at each other, hoping she’ll come back or at least reply to Nick’s plea. Fincham raises his eyebrows and Nick shrugs in reply. They walk back towards the car slowly. 

"Well, that was fun,” Fincham says.

Nick laughs. “Yeah, that was pretty uncooperative, even for her.”

“Right,” Fincham replies. “You knew the guy.”

Nick shrugs. “We weren’t really friends. Though everyone on the team knew Mrs. Donovan to be somewhat… “

“Temperamental?” Fincham offers.

“Yeah. Something like that. I’m not surprised she didn’t want to talk to us.”

“Bah,” Fincham says. “What can she know anyway? Little old lady…”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees. She knows a lot. Nick is sure of it. He takes out his mobile as they drive back to the station. He starts a text for Simon.

_Just came back from Mrs. Donovan. Son was killed. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?_

It is barely a few minutes until his phone starts ringing. Fincham looks at him from the corner of his eyes, before turning his attention back to the road. Nick take a moment to be surprised by Simon's promptness. He's never quite this quick in getting back to him. He probably has something useful for Nick.

“Dad,” Nick says warmly and a tiny bit impatient.

“You got the Donovan case?” Simon says sounding pleased.

“Yup.” Nick says, not wanting to say too much.

“Good, good,” Simon replies absently.

“Got any gifts for me?” Nick asks judging it ambiguous enough.

“You remember Max, right? Max George?.”

“Of course,” Nick says.

“I’d have a look around his car, if I were you. You’ll probably find the murder weapon there.”

“That’s good,” Nick says, amused. Simon has been wanting to get rid of George for months, irritated by his performances. This is the perfect opportunity; not only will it get George out of the way, but it'll also establish Nick's credibility and competence. The car comes to a stop and Nick notices they’ve arrived at Billy Donovan’s old flat. “I’m a bit busy, I’m gonna have to call you back okay?”

“Is it your birthday soon or something?” Fincham asks as he gets out of the car.

Nick nods. “Yeah. My parents are making a big deal out of it,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. It hardly matters to him what Fincham glimpsed from the conversation. As long as he's keeping his paws as far away from the truth as possible, Nick will take it gladly.

Fincham chuckles. “Still their little boy Grimshaw.”

“Shut it.”

 

*

 

Louis squirms a little in his chair. He’s been with Cowell for a few weeks now, but the uncomfortable feeling of not belonging is still running deep. This is not his crowd. He feels like a transplanted organ - wrong and ill-suited - and he can only hope he won't be rejected, can only pray that they won't notice. He tries to stop moving, not wanting to attract any attention to the body wire he’s wearing. Cowell and Walsh are arguing with a man in the other room, but Louis still want to remain inconspicuous.

“It’s not fucking complicated!” Walsh yells and Louis takes a deep breath. He needs to relax. 

He’s not sure why Liam and Niall insisted on the listening device. He never needed one before, but they’re getting impatient, picky in the information they want. They keep pushing and pushing for him to give them more. It keeps him up at night, feeling haunted by the fact that he’s simply not good enough for this. Despite his best efforts, despite trying and trying his hardest to see and hear everything… He’s not giving them what they need.

“This was your last chance!” Cowell yells and Louis jumps a little. He’s never heard Simon really yell before.

“No, no, no,” says a panicking voice that Louis assumes is the man undeserving of any second or more chances.“Come on Simon, it’s okay. I’m not gonna let you down again.”

“No,” Cowell agrees. “You’re not.”

The room falls silent and Louis almost gets up, wanting a closer look, when the screaming starts. He freezes and closes his eyes. They’re killing him. They have to be. Or they’re torturing him. Louis’ hands starts to shake and he slides them under his thighs, trying his hardest to will his body into stillness. He can’t get involved. He has to stay put. He can’t ruin this. The man is sobbing now, begging for mercy, for the pain to stop. Louis starts pleading with him in his mind, _please make it stop, please please make it stop._ It doesn’t stop. It goes on. Louis’ heart is beating so fast he feels dizzy. It almost drowns the noises, but it’s still not enough. He wonders for a second if they can hear it, all the way across town, in their safe little office. He wonders if Liam and Niall can hear his frantic, scared little heart and if they care. He shakes his head, feeling silly. Of course not. Louis doesn’t know how long it continues, but he loses himself in his mind, tries to think about something pleasant. He can’t show weakness. If they find him out, he’ll be the screaming mess.

The silence is eerie after an ordeal like this. Even Louis stopped breathing. He can’t hear Walsh and Cowell anymore. He most certainly can’t hear the man which can only mean one thing. The immobility, the quietness, only lasts a moment though. Suddenly, everything is brought back to life. Louis can hear himself think and shift. He can hear the movement in the other room, the steps walking towards him. And the wire instantaneously weighs a ton.

“Ugh. Can you believe how long he screamed?” Walsh says with disdain.

“Squealed like a little girl,” Simon agrees.

Their voices are getting closer, the door is opening and suddenly they’re there, they’re with Louis, and there is nowhere to hide. There’s blood dripping everywhere, clinging to their flesh, their clothes. Simon takes a seat in front of Louis.

“Sorry for making you wait Tomlinson.”

Louis smiles tightly, trying to keep the nausea at bay. “Not a problem,” he replies, his voice scratchier than usual. He clears his throat. “You’re busy, I get that.”

Simon nods as he washes the blood on his hands with a tablecloth.

“You puzzle me Louis,” he finally says after a moment and Louis’ heart stops. “I can’t quite figure you out.”

Louis forces himself to chuckle. “I’m not a very complicated fella…”

Simon smiles indulgently. “No?” He pauses. “See I’m not quite sure what to do with you.”

Louis shrugs. “Whatever you need,” he says, trying to sound confident. “Isn’t this meant to be mutually beneficial?”

Cowell raises an eyebrow. Louis can see Walsh mouthing _mutually beneficial_ with disgust in the corner of his eyes.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re a posh little shit.”

“Yet here we are,” Louis replies jokingly. “You’ve helped me a lot Mr. Cowell,” he adds seriously.  _Liar, liar, pants on fire,_ fake and improved Louis reminds him. 

“Have I?” Simon asks genuinely.

“Yeah. You’ve been helping out my family for quite some time. You and Aunt Dannii and your whole thing. That was beneficial to me as a kid, right? And now well. There’s been financial gain so far...And I’m not against increasing those, if you see what I mean. So anything you need Sir.”

“Hum.” Cowell simply replies.

He looks unconvinced. _He knows,_ Louis thinks quickly and once the thought enters his mind there's no point trying to get rid of it. It's there. Louis thought it. He can't take it back. It won't go away. Simon has to know. He's a smart man, there was never any chances of Louis ever fooling him. It’s over.

Louis wonders if Mark would allow his sisters to his funeral? Probably not. It will be a close casket considering the brutal way he's about to die. Just like his father. It will have to be, no one will want to see what remains; an unrecognizable face and a scarred body, Louis, but not Louis anymore, his empty shell marred by violence. It won’t be pretty. Especially when they find the wire. Rats are never spared.

His sisters won’t come and Mark won’t bother either. Maybe Stan and Georgie, although Louis is not counting on it. He’s been blowing them off again and again. Ignoring Stan’s worried texts and his sister’s frantic voicemails. He disappointed them again by joining this lot. He knew he would. He is a terrible person for reaching out to them in the first place. Extremely selfish. DCS Payne and DS Horan will have to be there. Considering his imminent death is their fault, it would be unbecoming for them to ignore the event. Nobody who really cares then. That’s how it will be. Except Harry. Harry will come. His patients are important to him. He’s that kind of guy. He’ll probably even be upset. Maybe there will be tears at his funeral after all.

Louis is terrified, but he looks at Simon in the eyes anyway. He won’t give him the satisfaction of his fear.

“Dannii was trustworthy. “ Walsh says from Louis’ left. “Your father wasn’t.”

“That’s true,” Louis replies unemotionally.

“Which one are you?” Simon asks.

For a second, Louis can only hear the beating of his own heart.

“I’m not my father,” he replies coldly.

Simon smirks. “Yeah, I didn’t think you were.”

 

“Never again,” Louis says breathlessly into the phone once he’s in the safety of his flat. He passes a nervous hand through his fringe. He feels about to explode, like all the pent of energy of what happened is finally ready to burst, his body too small to contain all of that fear and anger.

“What are you complaining about?” Niall asks. “It went perfectly fine.”

“No.” Louis says and he suddenly feels like crying and feels like such an idiot for it. He knew what he was getting into. He's always known. He expected to be better at it if he's being completely honest with himself, figured he would be stronger than _them_. Instead, he finds himself stuck in middle, not quite sure of who or what he is.

No one knows or understands is the thing. No one can feel what it’s like. They hear and see everything, but they can’t _feel_ it. For them, this is a successful operation like hundreds of others. Simon trusts him and they’re on their way to success. Louis feels sick, lost within himself and no one knows or sees or acknowledges it.

“You don’t know what it’s like!“ he replies frantically. “I’m not doing the wire anymore. We have to do it by phone… Or face to face! I don’t care. But no more wires, I’m not doing it.”

“Don’t be such a crybaby about it, Christ.”

“I’m not doing it,” Louis replies firmly.

“Fine!” Niall agrees, clearly irritated. “I’ll tell Liam, you won’t do the wires anymore.”

His tone is mocking but Louis doesn’t care. He got what he wanted and that’s all that matters. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for another sleepless night.

 

*

 

He meets Zayn at the pub, as usual. He had few hours to calm down but he still feel annoyingly twitchy. Zayn smiles warmly at him when he enters and waves him over. He’s sitting with Walsh and Parker. They’re all wearing leather jackets and for a moment, it amuses Louis greatly. He sobers up as soon as he reaches the table and realizes they mean business tonight. He feels inadequate and underdressed in his jumper and grey beanie. He looks like a teddy bear in comparison.

“Tommo,” Parker says, holding out a fist to him.

Louis bumps it reluctantly before taking a seat next to Zayn. He steals a gulp of his beer before talking.

“Guys,” he simply says.

“Sure, go ahead,” Zayn replies pointing his pint. “Feel free.”

“Cheers mate, I appreciate it.”

“Children,” Walsh warns. “No time for pleasantries. You lot have a body to bury.”

Louis stiffens at that. He had hoped, so hard, that he wouldn’t get to see it. Luck, it seems, is not on his side. Louis sighs. He hardly needed a new morbid image to fuel his insomnia and yet.

“Got a problem Tomlinson?” Walsh asks pointedly.

Louis laughs. “Nah. Just tired. And now we’re gonna be up all night in the dirt.”

Parker laughs meanly. “Don’t worry princess. We won’t get you too dirty.”

Louis is out of his chair in a second, his hand at Tom’s collar, dragging him up.

“You got a problem with me Parker?” He asks. Both Walsh and Zayn are staring, apparently unwilling to help out. Louis has weeks of frustration boiling in his veins and Parker would make such a nice outlet.

Parker just laughs again. “Nah. You’re cool. We’re cool. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Louis lets him go even though he’d like nothing more than to lay one on him. It would certainly help out release all of this nervous energy he carries around. He feels like loaded gun, ready to explode at any seconds. Besides, Parker would deserve it. 

They do end up spending all night in the dirt, but that’s not the part that keeps him turning in his bed, trying to get a little bit of rest before his appointment with Harry. No, it’s the uncomfortable foreshadowing the entire night carried that keeps Louis’ eyes wide open.

He knows what he’ll look like now. He knows what the marks on his body will feel like when people just like him will try to dispose of his carcass. He knows how he’ll smell. Louis turns around again and sighs. He wonder if Zayn will be in the team that does it. It’s almost a comforting thought. It’d be nice to have a friendly face there.

 

*

 

Nick’s first fight with Harry is pretty stupid, if you ask him. They’ve been dating for a quite a while now and things are going strong, in his opinion. Harry is sweet and caring, Nick’s opposite in everything. He rarely fights back or argue, always so eager to please, which is why Nick is so surprised when he gets insulted for the littlest thing.

“I’m just saying,” Nick says.

“You’re just saying that my job is dumb,” Harry replies and he really looks furious. He keeps walking up and down Nick’s kitchen, working himself up. Nick would be aroused by his red cheeks and determined face if Harry wasn’t being purposefully difficult.

“That’s not what I said at all,” he sighs. “I just don’t understand why you’re wasting your time seeing petty lowlifes and criminals, that’s all.”

“I see people Nick!” Harry yells. “All types of people. They’re not better or worse than you. They’re just people.”

“Yeah, well with your education you could be making way more money if you opened some private cabinet instead of seeing cops and criminals that’s all.”

“Yeah well I like my job, okay. I like helping people who really needs it. I like seeing criminals as you call them.”

He keeps moving his hands around as he talks, trying to paint a picture of what he’s saying. As usual, it makes no sense at all, doesn’t enhance what he’s yelling. Normally, Nick finds the habit cute. Tonight, it just pisses him off further.

“Fine.” Nick finally says. “It was just an opinion okay. No need to freak out on me.”

Harry stops walking abruptly. “Well I find it really hurtful that you don’t respect what I do Nick. I’m sorry for reacting.”

Nick sighs again. This is getting a bit old. Had he known Harry would take it like that, he wouldn’t have commented. Nick likes to talk anyone’s ears off, but he would have gladly kept his mouth shut. To think he was about to invite Harry to live with him when the whole thing blew completely out of proportion. He was hoping for celebratory sex and now he gets this and he's not sure how to deal with it. 

“I respect what you do,” Nick starts to argue. “I just want you to be successful that’s all. You’re hot stuff babe.”

Harry blushes a little and bites his lips. Nick knows he’s won this round. He gets a little closer and puts both of his hands around Harry’s hips. He tugs his boy closer. Harry doesn’t protest and follow the movement. Nick presses their body together and hides his smile in Harry’s neck. He was bound to come around eventually.

“This isn’t over,” Harry says softly.

Nick kisses his jaw.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Nick nods before slowly dragging his hand from Harry’s hip to his crotch.

“I’m serious Nick.”

 

*

 

Louis struggles to hold both of the young man’s arms behind his back. He’s one of Simon’s new guy or something, Louis’ not sure. After a while, the faces start blurring and the names are forgotten. Zayn punches him in the stomach again and the squirming stops.

“I don’t want to do this Jamie,” Zayn says to the kid’s bowed head. His breathing is speeding up and he’s clearly trying not to moan. “But you’re not giving us a choice. We warned you about stealing from us, didn’t we?”

Jamie tries to get upright and Louis tightens his hold. The kid is trembling.

“What am I gonna tell Simon now?” Zayn continues. “You gotta gimme something…” He waits a few moments. “No?” He punches him again. Jamie groans and his knees buckle.

“Okay, okay…” Jamie finally says, out of breath. “I’ll tell you where the dope is.”

“Don’t think about lying,” Louis says coldly, lost faraway in his mind, somewhere the impact of what's he's doing can't reach him.

 

*

 

“Legs and arms spread,” Niall says first when he and Liam gets out of the car.

“Hello to you too,” Louis replies.

Niall just stares at him for a few seconds. “Please,” he finally says after DCS Payne give him a warning look.

Louis rolls his eyes, but obeys. Niall pats his sides and legs quickly. “He’s good,” he says to Liam.

“Duh.” Louis simply says.

“This is standard procedure. You don’t have to like it.” Horan snaps.

“I don’t,” Louis replies, insulted. It’s so demeaning, after everything he’s doing for them, to be treated so carefully, like he’s about to blow up or could turn on them any seconds.

“Well you’re the one who says to do it face to face,” Niall replies. “If you didn’t want the face to face procedures, then you shouldn’t have bloody required them.”

“Niall,” Liam warns as he glances around, making sure the beginning of their argument hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention.

“Oh he’s started it,” Niall replies, pointing an accusing finger at Louis.

“Real mature Horan,” Louis says.

“Look,” Niall starts. “Stop your little tough act okay, we both know the truth about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!” 

He's getting tenser. He knows he is. With Liam and Niall. With Harry. He can see it happen gradually, day by day, how he's transforming into a shell of himself. It's scary, but he's powerless to stop it. Being himself is not allowed. Not while he works for Simon.

“You can play big guy all you want, but that doesn’t mean that’s what you are.”

“Stop it,” Liam says. He puts a hand on Niall’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

“No, I won’t stop. He has no fucking clue what he’s doing. Making a bloody mess of everything!”

He’s agitated, his face quickly reddening.

“Oh fuck you!” Louis says. “ I’m doing the best I can!” 

How can they not see that?

“ Yeah. Does that include breaking the jaws of other undercovers?”

“What?” Louis says, confused.

“Last week… Matt Cardle? Ring any bell?”

“I…”

“Now we’ve got SOCA on our asses because you destroyed his fucking face. What, do you think you have a special pass to do whatever the fuck you want?”

“Niall!” Liam says as Louis cries: “No!”

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Louis is fuming. How can they expect him to know or differentiate...

“You sure of that?” Horan asks, hands on his hips. He looks like a caricature. Louis almost wants to laugh at his theatrics. Almost.

“I can’t just turn it on and off,” he replies through gritted teeth. His palms are sweaty and he feels like his worse nightmare is coming true. They think he’s becoming one of _them_.

“Well most people do,” Niall accuses.

“WELL I’M NOT THEM!”

“That’s too bad. Maybe you should learn to control yourself, huh? Or maybe, if you can’t, we should just erase your file.”

Louis tenses up at that and for a second he really wants to kill Niall Horan. He’d make it really hurt.

“No,” Liam says firmly and that reassures Louis for a moment. Liam Payne is the one in charge. And he wouldn’t. Never. Not after everything Louis has been through. Not after all he’s done for them.

“Yeah, I like that plan,” Niall continues, ignoring his superior officer. “We’re the only two people who knows the truth about you. How about it? Huh?”

Louis knows Niall is just trying to wind him up. That’s what he does. But it’s increasingly difficult for him to ignore the way he blatantly approaches one of Louis’ biggest fear.

“Without us you’re just another little delinquent open for arrest for a shittons of felonies. How about that!”

“How about I destroy your fucking face!” Louis says before jumping on him. He’s never felt more angry in his entire life. Or more betrayed. They’re supposed to take care of him. They’re the ones who have to make it okay.

“Break it off!” Liam says, out of breath, as he struggles to separate their two bodies.

They’re not listening, of course not, way too happy to finally act on their mutual dislike. There’s blood in Louis’ mouth, he’s pretty sure Horan cut his lip, but he’s giving as good as he’s getting and the DS should feel proper rough in the next few days. _Good for him_ , Louis thinks with vindication.

“I said, break it off!” Liam repeats, as he finally manage to get Louis off Niall’s body.

They’re all breathing harshly. “In the car,” Liam says in a cold voice Louis never heard him use. They follow the order quickly, in silence.

Nobody says anything until they’re all seated, Louis alone in the back, like a little kid whose parents are about to scold for eating cookies before his bedtime.

“You can’t do things like that,” Liam says, looking at Louis.

“Oh, so it’s my fault,” he replies. The nerve of him!

“What if someone saw,” Liam says. “You thought about that? How can we justify not arresting you if you do things like that in broad daylight!”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. Louis was being stupid. So was Horan, of course, but Louis is the one with the most to lose. He absolutely cannot do things like that. It’s not even that it’s not allowed. He just can’t risk it. Louis can’t look at them in the eyes as he nods.

“He’s getting worse,” Louis says, finally meeting Liam’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Louis shrugs. “He’s unstable.”

“You really are a little genius!” Horan says towards his window.

“I meant, worse than usual. He’s… I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve been with him a long time and I’m telling you…”

“Okay,” Liam says. “Well, you keep watching. You watch him like a hawk and if you notice anything. Anything. No matter how big or small, you tell us. “

“He’s going to kill me,” Louis says and he hates how small his voice is.

The silence in the car only confirms Louis’ fear.

“He will,” he repeats. “He’s gonna find out who I am and he’s gonna kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Liam says gripping Louis’ shoulder tightly. “You just have to hang in there. We’re so close.”

“Why can’t you arrest him?” Louis protests. He doesn't understand. “The things you know he’s done… Hell the things I’ve seen him do! God, it’s enough for a few lifetimes in prison. I could testify for hours. Fuck, I could talk about that bastard's felonies for days.”

Louis kicks the seat in front of him angrily and Horan gives him a nasty look in reply.

“We’re building-”

“A case!” Louis finishes for Liam. “I know.”

“It takes time,” Niall adds. “You know that.”

He does, of course he does. But he's getting tired, exhausted, like he's a million years old. 

“You’re helping so much Louis,” Liam claims and it soothes the sting a little. “But we need a bit longer. We'll get him. But we just need you to hang on. And I promise, I’ll get you out of there, okay?”

“In a body bag,” Louis mumbles, looking at the hole in his jeans. He fiddles a little with it, accidentally making it bigger. He’s not stupid enough to kid himself. He knows how this is going to end.

“Safe and sound,“ Liam argues.

 _Right_ , Louis thinks bitterly.

 

*

 

“Do you have the money?” Walsh asks, gun in hand, when he and Louis enters the tiny flat.

“Wait,” the man says. “Please. I'll have it soon.”

“Stop crying,” Walsh says with disdain before shooting.

Louis jolts at the noise and watches the body crumble in a thud.

 

*

 

The next day, in Harry’s office, Louis is jittery. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept, properly slept, a deep peaceful slumber from which you don’t wake up as exhausted, if not more, than the day before. The taste of puke lingers in his mouth, a gross reminder of his moment of weakness on the way over. He’s been lucky so far, nobody has seen him leaving their various jobs to retch yet, but he fears it’s only a matter of time. It’s been increasing. He does it more and more often and he can’t control himself. He can’t keep the panic bundled away, hidden deep inside, anymore. And if he can’t control himself…

“I think we should talk about goals,” Harry says softly after a few minutes of silence on Louis’ part.

He’s not in the mood, not today. Harry is charming and kind, but Louis can’t. So he doesn’t say anything.

“Louis?” Harry asks. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods.

“Good,” Harry says. He seems puzzled by Louis’ behaviour. “So, as I was saying, humm. I think setting goals is really good way to track progress.”

“I guess. Bit primary school, isn’t it?”

Harry frowns. “Well, I guess we won’t do the sticker reward chart then…”

Louis snorts.

“Seriously, I think it’d be good Louis. We could start by setting goals for therapy.”

Louis raises his eyebrows.

“What would you like us to achieve? You know. Here. Together.” Harry asks with a smile.

“Honestly?” Louis asks, because he has a very specific goal in mind and he doesn’t think Harry will like it.

“Of course,” Harry says. “I always want you to be honest with me.”

He’s so earnest, but Louis can’t always be honest with him and that hurts. He knows Harry didn’t mean anything by it, of course not, but he still feels guilty. Unbelievably guilty.

“Valium,” Louis simply replies, before he can change his mind.

“What?” Harry says, frowning again. It’s a real frown this time, not the mocking one from before, and Louis wonders when, exactly, he learned the difference.

“My goal.”

“Your goal is valium?” Harry says quickly.

Louis shrugs. “I think it’s a legitimate goal.”

“Oh, you’re a medication expert then?” Harry says. He sounds really angry and Louis doesn’t understand. He’s being honest. It’s probably the first time he’s been one hundred percent honest in this office. This is what they’ve been building up to from the start. Harry should be proud, not angry.

“You asked me to be honest.” Louis protests and he’s getting antsier and antsier. The accusation in his tone slipped away from him and in the moment, he decides not to regret it. He sits back straighter in his chair.

“Well, I don’t think we’re anywhere near discussing prescriptions yet,” Harry starts.

Louis has been seeing him for ages. How can they not be there yet? “Look,“ Louis interrupts. “I’m going fucking crazy here, okay?” He barely takes the time to breathe. Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. “I haven’t slept in weeks… Months! I keep puking everywhere I go. Hell, I puked on the way here! I think I’m gonna die half the time I spend awake and I have to concentrate really really hard not be having a panic attack twenty-four/seven so you know what, when you ask me what my fucking goals are there’s very little I can think of apart from the fact that this needs to stop.”

“Is that true?“ Harry asks with a serious face.

“Yes. It’s true. You asked me to be honest. I’m being honest now. I want… something. You have to give me something to help. You can’t just…”

Harry is staring at him, silent, denying him a reaction and there’s nothing that irritates Louis more than that. He provokes. That’s what he’s always done. He says and does things that guarantee him a reaction. It’s always been this way. He likes the attention. He craves it. For months, he’s had to be subdued, not attract any attention, be Cowell’s perfect little soldier. He wants a reaction now. And Harry just keeps staring, being so unfair, making Louis feel small and unimportant in the process.

“You understand why I don’t think it’d be appropriate for me to prescribe you anything right? Especially when you’re acting like this, ” Harry finally says after a few more seconds of inaction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis says raising from his seat. He’s had enough of this little dance. Can’t Harry say what he means?

“Considering your antecedent and the fact that you’ve never mentioned any of those feelings before today, I find it worrying that you suddenly absolutely need strong medication.”

Harry is not looking at him. He’s avoiding his gaze, fumbling through Louis’ file and Louis is so angry he can’t speak. If he were thinking rationally, he’d realize that of course Harry is right. He’s just worried. But he’s too upset to be rational. He opens his mouth, prepared to tell Harry to _fuck the fuck off_ because what does he even know about Louis? Nothing but lies, fabrications, the costume Louis slides himself into every morning… but he can’t. He can’t say a thing.

Harry sighs, raising his gaze. His green eyes are soft again. “Sit down, please. We can start talking about it and in a couple of weeks…”

Louis starts laughing hysterically. “In a couple of weeks. Brilliant mate. That’s great. Really useful.” He passes a trembling hand through his hair, pulling at it roughly.

“Louis… Don’t. Calm down, okay,” Harry says getting out of his chair.

Usually, Louis finds Harry’s slow voice reassuring. It means safety, a place where Louis can take a break and breathe. Today, it’s irritating and meaningless. It just makes it longer until Harry denies him what he wants, what he needs. It’s just another stupid little quirks that he doesn’t have the patience to appreciate.

“No!” he yells. “I told the truth. You wanted to hear it. You said you always wanted me to tell the truth. Well, I said something true. You can’t just blow me off and send me back like this. I’m going mental. What kind of Doctor are you! ”

They stare at each other in silence. Harry seems shaken. _Good_ , Louis thinks cruelly.

“I thought I could trust you,” Louis finally says in a small voice. He blinks quickly, trying to stop the tears. The last thing he needs is for Harry to see him cry. He’s already making enough of a spectacle of himself.

“You can,” Harry replies immediately, reaching out for Louis’ arms. “Louis, you can. You can trust me.“

“Don’t touch me.“

“Louis, please.“

“Fuck you,” Louis says angry, betrayed. “Couple more weeks like this and I’ll blow my brains off!” he continues as he leaves the office.

He can hear Harry calling after him, but he runs the last couple of steps to the lift. Once safely in, he finally lets himself break for a few seconds. No more. No less.

“Stop it,” he tells his reflection in the elevator’s doors. “This is not you.” 

He takes a few deep breaths and quickly rubs his eyes, trying to hide any traces of tears. Whatever. He doesn’t need a shrink to trust anyway. This was always a waste of his time, just another part of this awkward role-play he's stuck into.

Louis is already out of the building when Harry catches up with him. “Louis,” he calls after him.

Louis bows his head down, hiding from the cold in his jacket, ignoring the other man’s shouts. Harry legs are much longer though and it isn’t too long before he feels a big hand gripping his bicep and forcing him to stop.

“Louis, wait,” Harry starts.

Louis pushes Harry away and he immediately lets go, taking a step back and putting his arms up, unthreatening in every sense of the word.

“I just want to give you this and make sure you didn’t mean what you said back there about killing yourself,” Harry says and Louis finally notices the piece of paper he’s holding.

He’s wary though, unwilling to forgive Harry’s betrayal so quickly. He doesn’t take the piece of paper, just keeps eying it suspiciously, barely even curious as to what it is.

“It’s not going to explode if you take it,” Harry jokes nervously after a few seconds.

Louis keeps frowning, but he reaches for it all the same. It’s a prescription. Of course it is. Louis is so relieved he could cry, or do something dumb like kiss Harry. He feels a flash of anger at the man for making him forget his frustration in the blink of an eye, but the feeling disappears as quickly as it came. He’s getting what he needs, against all odds, and Louis is far too exhausted not to appreciate it.

“What about my antecedent?” he asks, rolling his eyes dramatically at Harry. He’s never taken anything stronger than weed and his file most certainly doesn’t say anything about selling. Harry’s not that dumb though. Louis is pretty sure that Harry is at least a little dumb, but not that dumb.

Harry sighs. “I don’t think we should work together anymore.”

“What?” Louis barely gets it out. He loses his breath, or his will, as soon as Harry’s sentence is over.

“Listen. My initial reaction was right. You can be angry and feel betrayed all you want. But you fit drug seeking behaviour and no one in their right mind would prescribe you anything. Do you understand?” he says insistently.

Harry is visibly upset. His eyes are a bit glassy like he’s about to cry. Louis wants to give him the prescription back as soon as he notices. It’s only a stupid piece of paper, he doesn’t need it if it’s going to make Harry cry. Harry who has been the only person consistently kind to him ever since this whole fiasco started. Louis doesn’t have the time to confess it though. He’s too damn slow, trapped in his uncertainty, his confusion. Harry has the time to rub the back of his neck and bite his lower lips before speaking again.

“I’m not sure what _that_ says about our professional relationship,” he finally says pointing to the piece of paper Louis is holding between trembling fingers. “But I know I can’t allow myself to be your therapist anymore.”

“Why not?” Louis asks. He doesn’t understand. He thought it was going well. He was making progress. Of course, he couldn’t tell Harry everything, but… Slowly, he’s been feeling more and more comfortable in that stupid office and he’s come to appreciate it for the solace it offers. He’s definitely not willing to give that up.

“I like you,” Harry admits sheepishly. Louis’ heart skips a beat. “I’m biased towards you. It clouds my judgement. I’m not supposed to be this close to my patients. I’m not supposed to want...”

The pause stretches. Awkward. Hopeful. Tensed.

“I’m not supposed to want to be friends with you,” Harry finally says.

Louis opens his mouth to say anything, to protest, but he can’t find the words. He wants to be friends with Harry too. He tried not to so hard, but he does. He wants to get to know him; where he went to school and what he ate for lunch, the weirdest dream he ever had or which jeans are his favourites.

“That’s bad Louis. So I’m gonna transfer you to someone else and you’ll be much better for it.”

“If that’s what you want,” Louis whispers, afraid to give himself away if he says more. “Thanks, by the way,” he adds waving the hand holding the prescription. He feels foolish. He knew he liked Harry, but he never thought he’d long for him, for what could have been. Louis wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in that office and he feels angry and stupid at the same time. He wants them back, all the minutes he spent being stubborn while Harry was gently probing and poking at the tangled mess of his mind. He wants back all the hours he spent being too caught up in something bigger than himself when he could have been paying attention.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replies solemnly. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? And if you do…” He hesitates a few seconds. “I’ve added my mobile number. Just in case.”

Harry shakes his head, like he’s stopping himself from saying anything else. He waves at Louis and start walking back towards his office. He stops and turns back to Louis.

“You didn’t mean it, right?” he asks softly.

Louis is fighting his hardest to remain alive. Every single second of consciousness is spent towards that goal. Every day. “No,” Louis says. “I really didn’t.”

Something in Louis’ tone or maybe his eyes seems to satisfy Harry because he simply nods and goes back again, bumping into a trash can that almost sends him crashing on the pavement. Louis hides a laugh in his hand, remembering the first time they met and the knocked files. Before he can help himself, or think better of it, he’s calling out towards Harry again.

“You wanna grab some tea? Or coffee?” He asks.

It’s a mistake. He knows it is. He was chosen for more than merely his connections. His lack of attachments amongst other things. The last thing he needs is a friend. _A crush_ , his brain supplies.

“What?” Harry replies, a confused look on his face. He's several paces ahead.

Louis rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the man. “I said,” he starts when he reaches Harry, “do you want to get some tea or coffee?”

“I thought I was supposed to fuck off? Or something like that.” Harry says quietly, quoting Louis' earlier outburst.

“Well, I wanted you to,” Louis sighs dramatically, trying to distract Harry - and himself - from the awfulness of his behaviour. “but you got me drugs so I kind of want to keep you around.”

Harry looks shocked for a few seconds. He just stares at Louis, waiting for an indication that he’s simply kidding. Louis finally obliges and raises an eyebrow. Harry smiles, cheeks dimpling.

“I like you too,” Louis admits reluctantly. _A lot, more than I should or is appropriate._ “I’d really like it if we were friends.” _Liar_ , the fake and improved and honest Louis trapped in his mind whispers.

 

It’s a bit awkward at first and they sit in silence eyeing each other.

“So, did you invite me for coffee to be as silent as in my office?” Harry finally asks.

“No!” Louis says quickly. “I just -”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replies, interrupting what would have been an awkward sentence.

“I made things weird, right?” Louis manages to say through the guilt. He’s ruining everything.

“No, I don’t think so. Silence is okay if that’s what you need.”

Louis rolls his eyes.  “What sort of Disney prince are you anyway?” he teases.

“Heyyy…” Harry protests, before smiling. “Don’t spread rumors, think about my credibility.”

Banter. That’s good. That, Louis can deal with.

“Please,” Louis says. “As if you had any credibility to start off. Have you seen you? You’re like an overgrown child.”

Harry is smiling, clearly pleased that Louis is loosening up and he can’t really be angry at himself for letting his guard down when that’s the result. This is the most lighthearted conversation Louis has had in weeks and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

“With a name like Styles, I expected you to be some sort of old creepy dude who thinks he’s better than anyone else,” Louis admits.

“What?” Harry giggles. "How does Styles sound old? Or creepy?

Louis shrugs, embarrassed. “You’re the first shrink I’ve met okay. I had fucked up expectations.”

“Fair enough,” Harry says. Then he laughs. "People usually tell me my name sounds like a porn star name, so." Harry pauses, concentrating for a second. "I was gonna say old and creepy is an improvement, but nope. Not really."

Louis start laughing and once he starts he can stop. They talk and it's not awkward anymore. It's not uncomfortable or bizarre. It's just nice. Quite a while later, they're both crying watching fail videos on Harry's phone, pressed together on one side of the table.

 

 

*

 

 _Phones off_. Nick texts Simon the evening the microprocessors exchange is scheduled. The SIU was already aware, which only confirms Nick’s suspicion that there’s at least one rat in Cowell’s closest circle. Only his bests were told and yet… It leaked. Here he is, sitting in a cramped van a few blocks over, watching the designated abandoned building from multiple angles on various monitors. Horan is breathing loudly next to him and Nick is close to smashing something. Ideally a monitor, so the officers would see even less of Simon's operation. Their unit doesn't have a good view of the building's east side, which is a relief. At least they've got that going for them. Simon was pleased, even though Nick had nothing to do with it. He can't remember what the IT guy said -some unstable shit or whatever- but it's Simon's only chance for this whole thing to work out. Nick took the praise anyway, which means he’s partly responsible for the night going well now. It’s huge and he can’t help feeling nervous. He wants the whole stupid thing to be over so he can get back home to the familiarity of Harry’s arms. He glances at his phone discreetly. _Done_ , is Simon's only reply. Now it begins.

 

“Turn off your mobiles,” Cowell tells the crew.

Alarm bells ring in Louis’ mind. Could Simon know that officers are scanning their area, hoping to intercept something from them. And if he does, does he know about the cameras placed around and inside the building? Louis shakes his head, bringing himself back into the moment. Panic is pointless right now. He knows nothing and half-formed assumptions will only lead to stupidity.

“That goes for you too Tommo,” Walsh says when he notices Louis hasn’t moved.

“Sorry Sir,” Louis replies as he reaches in his pocket. He picks the red phone up and turns it towards Simon when he’s done closing it. He gets a mere nod in reply. His heart is heavy when he puts it back in his pocket, next to the phone Liam gave him forever ago. With everyone else’s phone off, remaining in contact with his team is going to be harder than expected. The operation already had him on edge and now that the difficulty levels has gone up, Louis feels a bit sick. Niall and Liam couldn't have more clear as to what they expect from tonight. Everything needs to be perfect. They have to intercept this deal. 

The air is filled with a nervous energy. They’ve been preparing this for a while.They being not only Louis, Liam and Niall, but also Cowell, Walsh, Zayn, Parker and all the others… As usual, Louis stands on his own, separated from the rest, walking the thin line that separates them like a tightrope walker. He can only hope he’s not setting himself up for a brutal plunge.

As they walk to the east side of the building, Louis stomach clenches nervously. This can't be happening. He frowns. This is no coincidence. It can’t be. Simon knew, somehow, about the cameras. There's no other explanation. And now, it means it's all on Louis.

 

"What the fuck?" Horan says when Cowell's men disappear one by one off the monitors.

Nick smiles discreetly. Simon reached the blind spot. This should be interesting.

Horan is looking around, daggers in his gaze. “Who the fuck set that shit up?”

“Listen,” Paul starts, trying to calm him.

“Oh, of course,” Niall interrupts. “This moronic installation came from your department! I should have known.”

“Niall,” Liam says. “You know IT set it up.”

Nick is trying his hardest not to giggle. He wishes briefly he could film every second of this. Memorizing it is his only option though so he focuses back on what's going on. 

 

The Chinese arrives, finally, and everything is ready, everything is set up. Louis needs to warn Liam. This is it, this is the moment. He takes a few sets back discreetly, casually leans against a dirty wall. He looks around nervously. Everybody is focused on the conversation between Simon and the Chinese men. Zayn is the only one whose attention is not entirely devoted to what’s happening, but he’s lightening up a smoke and seems pretty preoccupied by his lighter’s failings. It’s now or never.

Louis reaches inside his pocket for the appropriate phone. With barely a glance up to make sure not one is staring, he opens up a text to Liam. _Quickly, quickly, quickly_ , his mind urges him. He doesn’t take the time to type anything else than _$_. Liam will understand. When his phone is finally back into the safety of his pocket, Louis’ attention return to the exchange. Simon is now holding two briefcases and Louis assumes the other man is already in possession of the truck’s key. They parked it behind the building a few hours ago and some of Cowell’s lower associates loaded with boxes upon boxes of military technology.

 

Nick frowns when DSC Payne squirms suspiciously and gets his phone out of his pocket. The man barely looks at it before raising his eyebrows. Nick doesn’t like it one bit.

“They’re doing the exchange,” Liam says and this is it, one of them, the undercovers, must have texted it. It makes sense and yet Nick is filled with an irrational fury towards anyone who would dare betray Simon’s trust.

“How do you know?” Higgins argue. “We can’t see a thing!” he says pointing towards the monitors.

“I just do,” Liam says in an authoritative voice and that is the end of the argument.

As they get ready to chase after the Chinese mobsters, Nick vows to find the little rat prick and to make him pay for his trickery. At least, it’s not Simon’s crew they are going after tonight. The microprocessors are much more important than a bunch of killers.

 

*

 

“Fuck!” Louis yells at his phone when he gets back to place, hours later. He’s been trying to contact Liam for ages, with no results, and he’s slowly losing it. He takes a deep breath, before rummaging through his coat pockets. He takes one, two pills out, and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He thanks Harry mentally, once again, for his professional transgression. He’ll have to call Niall. It’s the next step. He knows it is, but Louis is most definitely not looking forward to it. He glances at the time and sighs. He could let it lie until morning but… That would only push back the unpleasantness. Besides, he has news. Big news. Important news.

“Scary news,” Louis mumbles absently. He bites his lips, counts to five and sigh before pressing 2 and listening to the number dialling itself.

“What is it?” Horan first says and he’s in a foul mood.

For a second Louis is completely speechless. He expected it to a certain degree, but not like this.

“Damnit Louis, it’s been a long night okay. We lost the microprocessors, I’ve been in debriefing for ages so if you could tell me what’s up, it’d be appreciated.”

“You lost them?” Louis says, outraged. “How did you do that?”

Niall sighs deeply at the other end of the line. “They were fake,” he finally says.

“What?” Louis says, because no way. That is simply not happening.

“So you didn’t know about it?” Niall asks and for once it isn’t accusatory.

“Of course not!” Louis replies, still insulted at the mere suggestion.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He sounds tired, exhausted, and Louis feels guilty for calling so late and being the bearer of even more bad news. “You’re gonna have to be all ears mate. We have to find them.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So, if you didn’t know, then why are you calling so late? Everything okay?”

Louis is not sure if he’s imagining the concern in Niall’s voice, but he chooses to ignore it either way. He doesn’t have the energy to analyse Niall Horan behavioral patterns past midnight. “I think you have a rat.”

The line is deadly silent for a few seconds. “Say that again,” Horan says coldly. Louis sighs.

“They knew. That you were monitoring the area. He had us close our phones as soon as we were out of the car!”

“The blind spot,” Niall says.

“It can’t have been a coincidence. I mean, Simon led us to the only place where you guys didn’t have access.”

“Fuck.”

“I know,” Louis says.

“I mean, we suspected…” Niall starts.

“You did?” Louis asks, surprised. Tonight he’s the first time he’s even entertained the possibility.

“Yeah, we were gonna talk to you about it after tonight. This just confirms it even more.”

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles.

 

*

 

“Can’t believe Simon gave them fake microprocessors,” Zayn says a few days later, fag in hand, back against the blood red bricks of the pub.

“He’s got nerves,” Louis admits, his voice devoid of any lingering resentment he feels towards the failed evening.

Zayn laughs and takes a drag. “No one’s gonna argue with you on that one, mate.”

“Why do you think he did it?” Louis inquires. He needs answers. Liam needs answers. More importantly, they need to find those stupid computer chips, or whatever the hell it is Simon has stolen, before it’s too late.

Zayn shrugs nonchalantly. He’s beautifully unbothered by everything, just goes with the flow, day after day. “Probably waiting for a better offer, right?” He stops, takes a drag with a pensive expression on his face. “Maybe he’s already got it.”

Zayn is man of few words, Louis has quickly come to learn, but whatever comes out of his mouth always has meaning. It's always something important, something Zayn really wanted to say. Louis likes that.

“Oh,” he simply replies.

Zayn gives him a look.

Louis laughs a little. “I just realized we’ll probably have to do all that shit all over again,” Louis admits.

Zayn laughs as he stubs out his cigarette on the crimson wall. “Yep,” he replies as he keeps the door open for Louis.

 

*

 

Tea with Harry quickly becomes Louis’ favourite thing in the whole world. It’s dangerous on various levels, especially now that Louis knows he’s taken. (And of course he is, someone like Harry would never be single.) He’s keeping everything under control though. They’ve managed to salvage whatever had started to timidly blossom during Louis’ weekly appointments and they now simply enjoy each other’s presence. Of course, Louis still has to lie, again and again, always. But it’s nice to have someone not caught on this whole nightmare Louis walks in daily. He still see Stan and Georgia- barely, briefly- but he can’t even look at them in the eyes. He knows they judge him for the choices he’s made and he can’t correct them. Not now. Not yet. Harry doesn't expect anything from him. 

“And you feel ready?” Louis asks, when Harry mentions moving in with his boyfriend.

It seems fairly early, in Louis’ opinion, and from the various tales Harry’s been offering, they don’t have the most stable or healthy relationship. Not that’s it’s any of Louis’ business of course, but he’s been learning more about Harry, like his wish miraculously came true, and now he finds himself wanting to entangle his and Harry’s life so tightly that they can’t ever be separated. He wants them to be so close that it becomes his business, so close that everything becomes his business. It’s a frightening thought, one that he doesn’t give a lot of attention to, but it’s there nonetheless. Always floating in the back of his mind.

Harry simply shrugs. “I think so?” he says.

“Right. Very convincing Harold,” Louis can’t stop himself from saying. 

“We’re not perfect or anything, but… What relationship is, right?”

“I guess,” Louis replies.

“You have to work at it,” Harry insists, serious. 

“Of course,” Louis agrees, how could he not when Harry is being so sensible.

It’s hard to listen to though because ever since they started this little tradition - and Louis likes to think of it that way - Harry has been sharing loads. Turns out he’s a charmer in real life too, when he’s not busy being Dr. Styles, and he likes to tell silly stories from his past, anecdotes that take ages to get to the point, little glimpses of past Harrys and everything he’s done, everywhere he’s been. Louis can’t help but think about the teenager who put candles all over a bridge for a girl he had crush on and how he can’t find him in the man speaking so rationally about his relationship. It makes Louis sad. Louis has seen more people die than he ever imagined he would, but somehow, _this_ hits him hard.

Harry shakes his head. “What about you?” he asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Me?”

“Do you have someone?” Harry inquires cheekily, dimples out and everything, and Louis can’t help the sincere laugh that bubbles out of him. “Hey…” Harry protests slowly.

“I can’t,” Louis says, because it’s true.

“‘Course you can,” Harry says sweetly. “You’re a proper catch!”

“Right,” Louis snorts. “Hyperactive idiot on probation is definitely the most desirable trait in a partner,” he says sarcastically.

“Don’t put yourself down,” Harry says, visibly unhappy.

“Dr. Styles get out of this body,” Louis says pointing an accusing fingers at Harry’s chest. Harry throws his hand the air. “We agreed, I have a shrink for that.” Louis insists.

“I wasn’t -”

“You were,” Louis interrupts.

“Whatever,” Harry mumbles grumpily. “Just keep on feeding your self-pity and low self-esteem, see if I care.”

“I will, thank you for the permission though.”

Harry shakes his head, but Louis can tell he’s amused. “Tell me something,” he demands.

“Something,” Louis replies.

“Louis!”

He sighs and closes his eyes briefly. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” Harry says. “As long as it’s true. You know more about me than I do about you and I was your shrink. That's not normal!” he teases.

“You know loads,” Louis argues.

“I don’t.”

“Well you know more than most,” Louis admits shyly.

Harry doesn’t say anything and Louis knows it’s some sort of stupid technique to get him to talk, but he can’t bring himself to be angry even though it’s working.

“Wanna know something true?” He asks and Harry nods enthusiastically.

“I haven’t seen my little sisters since my mum died and I missed them like crazy. That’s true,” he says and takes a second to congratulate himself on the steadiness of his voice.

“Why don’t you go see them?” Harry asks, brows furrowed, trying to make sense of the puzzle Louis gave him.

“Can’t. My stepdad won’t allow it. I’m a bad influence or something.” Louis shrugs nonchalantly, trying to prove how little he cares. Harry, obviously, can see right through it, but he’s respectful enough not to comment.

“That sucks,” he simply says. “I don’t know what I’d do without my sister,” he continues. “We tell each other everything…”

Louis nods, feeling his throat clenching painfully. Once upon a time, he was the person his little sisters told everything to. He’d braid their hair and share their secrets, but not anymore.

“Yeah,” he whispers, defeated.

Harry’s hand brushes his fingers softly. “I’m sorry Louis.”

 

*

 

“Okay,” Nick starts in a serious tone. He needs to make an impression. “I’ve asked you here because we have a situation.”

Nick’s office is full, what with him, Fincham and Sheeran all cramped up in there.

“Higgins asked me to form a group of trustworthy people for a special investigation. I chose you two. If for any particular reason you don’t feel up for a challenge, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Nick leaves them a few seconds to make up their mind. Once it’s obvious neither of them are backing down, Nick continues.

“We think Cowell has someone in our department.”

Both men look shocked, mouths open, frozen in their incredulity.

“But -” Fincham starts.

“Surely,” Sheeran continues.

“Someone told them about the phones and the cameras. There’s no way they found it out on their own. There’s one of them on the inside. It’s a fact,” Nick affirms. In truth, everyone else is still tentative about the theory, but Nick knows, more than anyone else, that there is a spy in their unit and it won’t be long before the others speak with the same certainty, so he allows himself the conviction.

“What does that have to do with us?” Fincham asks.

“We,” Nick says with a smirk. “are gonna catch the bastard and we’re gonna arrest him.”

This is literally the best assignment Nick has ever gotten. He has to consciously stops himself from thinking about it, because he keeps laughing at the irony. The memory of Simon’s face when he learned also fuels the hilarity if Nick is being completely honest with himself. This mixture of pride and incredulity with a dash pure mockery is something that Nick is going to remember for a very long time. He feels younger than he has in ages, drunk on this secret he has and on the way he is fooling them all. In truth, Nick has two rats to catch. Himself, of course, and the creep poisoning his family. Horan and Payne are useless, obviously. Tight-lipped, they won’t breathe a word about the undercover operations. There’s little Nick can do as he waits for Simon to collect the informations he asked about every men present that evening. Once he has every names, addresses and NIS, he might be able to figure something out. Until then, he waits.

 

*

 

“Here it is,” Harry says with a smile, arms full of his first box.

Nick smiles. He’s glad he gathered up the courage to ask Harry to move in. There’s still on shaky ground, have been ever since the fight, but Nick is hoping that this new development in their relationship will give them the necessary push to get past it.

“Let’s see it then…” Nick says as Harry put the box on the kitchen table.

“I still have a car full, we can look through them later,” Harry says.

“Or we can look now,” Nick says, grinning, nose already in the box. When he notices what’s inside, he straightens with an exaggerated frown. “You’re right. That can wait.”

“What?” Harry says, looking in the box for himself. “What’s wrong with that box?”

Nick stares at him for a few seconds, sure that Harry will figure it out by himself. When it’s obvious that he’s not getting closer to an answer, Nick sighs mockingly and reaches for the frame on top of the box. He waves it at Harry who smiles in response.

“That’s me and my sister,” Harry says happily. “I was thinking we could put it on that wall.” 

“Right. No,” Nick laughs. He’s not a picture kind of person.

“What?” Harry says.

“Listen babe, I love you, I respect this” Nick starts clumsily, pointing at the picture. “But not in my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen,” Harry protests.

“Do you see pictures of where I’m from hanging all around?” Nick argues.

“No, but -”

“Exactly!” Nick says. “It ain’t pretty love. Nobody wants to see the work in progress…”

Nick pinches Harry cheek teasingly as he says so.

“I can't believe you,” Harry says, struggling in vain, laughing when Nick manages to tickles his sides.

“It’s okay we’ll put all this in storage.”

 

 

*

 

“So?” Harry says when he arrives a bit late. “What’s up?”

“Hum, drinking tea,” Louis says holding his cup.

Harry reaches for it and steal a sip. He makes a face at the bitterness.

“That’ll serve you right,” Louis says. “Stealing a man’s tea. Have you no shame Harry Styles?”

Harry smiles. “Sharing is caring Louis.”

“Go get your own,” Louis instructs.

He comes back a little later with his own cup and a pastry. He cuts a piece and hand it to Louis immediately. It’s really hard sometimes to remember that they’re only friends. If that.

“So, what have you been up to?” Harry inquires again.

Louis shakes his head. “It really is like having two therapies a week. Poor bargain.”

Harry smirks. “Fine,” he says. “Keep your secrets.”

It’s not that he wants to keep them. Louis would love nothing more than to talk about the people he beat up this week or the men Walsh & Co are planning to kill. He’d love to explain how he feels when he blows up a car; a hundred percent terrified, but alive, more alive than at any other moment. So many things he wants to share before they slip through his fingers and he forgets the fear and the cold. But he’s already risking so much, every time he comes to meet Harry. He’s putting them both in danger. He can’t rationalize it and he certainly can’t make it worse by telling Harry the truth. Besides, he's a little bit scared. He knows what it's like to lose people, knows quite too well, and he doesn't want to add Harry to the  _disappointed in Louis_  list. It's a bit selfish, but he doesn't really have anyone else. 

“How is the move going?” Louis asks to change the subject. Although he doesn’t really want to hear about it.

“Good,” Harry smiles. “Nick and I both really busy at work so… Slowly but surely, you know? I still have my flat until the end of the month so. No hurry.”

“That’s nice,” Louis replies sincerely. “What does Nick do?” he asks, curious because it never came up.

“He’s… hum. He’s a detective, actually. Detective Inspector,” Harry says it carefully.

They’ve never really talked about Louis’ failed career. It’s one of those topics that Louis has always kept out of bound, because it was a bit painful at first and now simply because he doesn’t know what to think.

It used to be his dream. Now, Louis can only think that if he ever gets out of this alive, he’ll do anything but. He’ll have done his contribution anyway. He won’t owe anyone anything. It’s a big _if_ though, so Louis rarely lingers on it.

“Maybe you know him?” Harry starts awkwardly.

“I don’t think so,” Louis replies immediately, unwilling to go there. “I wasn’t there for long.”

Harry clears his throat. “No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Louis says preventively. 

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Louis says preventively. 

They stare at each other for a second, before bursting into laughter.

 

*

 

Louis is really irritated. Nathan is high as fuck and he isn't give him anything. It’s the first time Walsh has let him visit a bookie by himself, and he’s not going anywhere. He's failing at it all because the guy can't concentrate long enough for him to hear Louis' questions. It's getting very old, very fast.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” he says, forcing his voice to sound as callous as possible.

His gun feels heavier than ever before. A few screams can be heard from outside.

“What’s that?” Nathan says, pupils out of focus, confused and scared. “Is Walsh out there?”

“I said, I’m not going to repeat myself!”

“What’s the difference,” Nathan asks. “You shooting me or Cowell giving me up to SOCA?”

He laughs hysterically, like what he said is funniest thing anyone has ever said and Louis can’t believe his ears.

“What did you just say?” he asks threateningly.

Nathan looks at him in the eyes for the first time, seemingly realizing his presence. He looks frightened. “What?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m high!” Nathan argues, his laughter now nervous.

Louis takes a deep breath before putting his gun to Nathan’s temple. “I said, what the fuck did you just say about SOCA?!”

“Oh god, god. Nothing.” He’s crying now, snorting unattractively.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, just repeat yourself.” Louis is angry enough to hurt him though and that's scary.

“I can’t. God I can’t.”

Louis’ hand is shaking and he feels his anger throbbing. Without thinking about it, he shoots Nathan in the leg. 

“FUCK!”

“TELL ME!” Louis yells.

“Shit, fuck. Ow. He’s an informant!” Nathan finally admits. “Why do you think they haven’t caught him yet?”

Louis takes a few step back, breathless. That can’t be right. He shakes his head and leaves the building, weightless. He shot someone. And Simon...

He needs to see Liam.

 

*

 

It takes Louis a few hours - and a few valiums- to calm down, so it’s pretty late by the time he arrives at Liam’s house. He knows it’s not standard procedure, but he couldn’t bear the thought of doing this on the phone. This is massive. He somehow feels unworthy of the information. He waits a few minutes on the street corner, staring at the darkened house, hesitating. He can’t be seen here. He shouldn’t have come probably. But still, he needed it, somehow. They’re barely communicating by texts these days and Louis feels more alone than ever. He's isolated from everything and everyone.  He gathers his courage and finally knocks on the door. It takes a while before someone comes and Louis feels guilty for a second. Liam was probably asleep.

“Louis?” Liam whispers, shocked, when he finally opens the door.

“Hey,” Louis replies. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. Did something happen? Are you okay?”

Louis nods as he enters the house. It’s homey and comfortable, nothing like Louis’ bare flat. He always imagined himself living in a home like this. Somewhere warm and happy. Louis always imagined a lot of things that aren’t happening.

“You want something to eat?” Liam asks quickly, unbelievably kind despite the intrusion.

Louis stammers. “Oh, that’s not necessary.” 

“Come on,” Liam says, pressing a reassuring hand on Louis’ shoulder. “We’ll be more comfortable in the kitchen, I’m pretty sure there’s some leftovers in the fridge.”

The kitchen is even more cosy than the hall and Louis smiles at the pictures decorating the fridge. Liam’s parents and siblings and many featuring him and a beautiful brunette. The picture of a sonogram stands out to Louis and he’s astonished that in all the time they’ve worked together, they barely had the opportunity to actually get to know each other. 

“That yours?” he asks pointing the picture.

Liam’s face lights up entirely as he nods with enthusiasm.

“How far along is she?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. He loves children. Always has.

“30 weeks,” Liam says proudly and Louis can’t help but think he’ll be a wonderful father. “We decided to keep the sex a surprise, but I’m pretty sure it’s girl. Niall says it’s stupid but…” Liam shrugs sheepishly. “Just a feeling, you know?”

"That' great man. Congrats!" Louis says and Liam blushes, trying to hide it with a cough.

“ So, what happened?” Liam asks. “Why are you here? I assume it’s important.”

Louis sinks into a chair with a huge sigh. “I think Cowell is a protected SOCA informant.”

Liam freezes, hand on the microwave door. “What?” he asks, turning back to Louis, giving him his undivided attention.

“It makes sense,” Louis starts quickly. He knows he sounds frantic, but he’s been thinking about it and he feels enlightened, like his world tipped sideways. “Aren’t you guys trying to make it a federal case and it never works? I mean… Why else would it take so fucking long?! He’s protected. He has to be.”

“Where did you hear this?” Liam sounds, and looks, completely shocked.

“One of Simon’s bookie. He was really high, but… He looked freaked enough when he realized what he’d told me. He certainly believes it.”

“Wow.”

“You guys never thought that it was a possibility?” Louis asks. They suspected Cowell had someone on the inside way before they could confirm it and Louis has been obsessively wondering what else they’ve been keeping from him ever since.

“No!” Liam exclaims. “Shit,” he quickly whispers, glancing towards the stairs. Once it’s clear his better half hasn’t been disturbed, he turns back to Louis. “We’re working with SOCA… It never crossed my mind.”

Louis shakes his head. “Well, it’s not like they can say anything if he’s under their wings, right?”

“No, definitely not. If it’s the case he’s-”

“Untouchable,” Louis finishes. “That bastard!”

 

*

 

The next evening, Louis gets summoned at the bar and he’s surprised to find it empty except for Cowell’s bests.

“Good, you’re here,” Parker says when he arrives. He hands Louis a piece of paper with a bunch of questions.

Louis scans through them quickly - real name, address, NIS, medication conditions, etc - as he walks to Zayn’s table.

“What the hell?” he asks Zayn who simply shrugs in response. Zayn always knows more than him. From the start he always have. The fact that even he's surprised put Louis on edge.

“Right, now that you’re all here,” Parker starts, giving Louis a look. “The boss asked for everyone to fill in those forms.”

“Why?” Louis asks. 

“That’s none of our business. Now quick.”

Louis turns back to the paper in front of him and gives it a stinky eye.

“Yeah, I’m not comfortable with it either,” Zayn admits.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you actually complain about anything Malik. Welcome to the human race,” Louis teases to distract himself.

Zayn shoves him playfully in retaliation. “I was hardly complaining.”

"You're right," Louis replies. "You're probably still an alien. What with that face," Louis adds, poking Zayn's cheekbones to make him laugh.

“Children?!” Parker calls and he sounds like Walsh. “Today please.”

Zayn snorts and rolls his eyes at Louis. Louis bites his lower lip and reluctantly starts writing down all of his personal information. He fears he knows the purpose of it all. Cowell must have realized by now. He has to know there’s a traitor amongst them. There’s been too many coincidences, too many close calls. Simon is not an idiot. He’s looking for Louis. This is his call to war. Subtle and discreet, but a call to war nonetheless.

Louis finishes quickly, pretending he’s not having a mental breakdown as he approaches Parker’s seat.

“Yeah I’m giving it to him tomorrow night,” Parker is saying, pointing to the bright yellow envelope that is slowly filling up with all the little details of their pathetic lives. “He’s picking it up here actually,” Parker says and Louis feels a breath of relief. He has to know where that envelope is going.

“There.”

“Thanks Tommo,” Parker says before putting his papers in, not before Louis notices the big black letters on it.

“Are you kidding me?” He says, personally insulted by the mistake.

“What?” Parker says looking at the envelope, blind to his error

“Citizens?” Louis points.

“Yeah?” Parker agrees.

Louis sighs. “That’s not how you write citizens.”

“‘Course it is,” Parker argues.

It’s mocking Louis. Staring at him. C-I-T-I-Z-I-N-S. He can’t let it pass. He just can’t.

“Give it to me,” he says, irritated, before picking the big black marker on the table.

“What? No,” Parker argues.

“If you’re giving it to Simon, at least it’s gotta have proper spelling okay? Trust me, you’ll thank me for it.” Louis takes the envelope, being a bit more forceful than necessary. He crosses out the offensive word with satisfaction before rewriting it correctly in big letters.

“There you go,” Louis says with a hint of condescension as he hands it back. He’s pretty sure Zayn is laughing in his hand, catching him with the corner of his eyes. “Well, see you boys.”

“Woah. Simon said to stay here. I think Walsh is coming over.”

“Yeah, well you can tell him I’m not staying okay.”

Louis ignores the responses and walk out without looking. He doesn’t even say goodbye to Zayn. He just knows that he has to get out of there. The noose is tightening.

 

*

 

Louis wants to go home, but he can’t stand himself, can’t stand his own skin, and the thought of being alone irks him. He could go to Georgia and Stan, but he’s not sure he’d be welcome anymore.They know what he’s up to. They’ve long stopped reaching out to him. Hell, they probably figured out he’s been using them to get close to Simon. He used up his second chance for this. He’s pretty sure he’s past forgiveness now. Besides, he knows that's not who he wants to see tonight. In a perfect world, he’d have tea with Harry. He knows that would help him calm down, settle his erratic mind a little bit. Just a little while, just long enough for him to relax and stop being frightened. It’s late. He can’t possibly call at this hour. It would be inappropriate. Without even noticing, Louis gets his phone out. After a bit of looking around, he manages to find Harry’s old address. He can only hope he’s not completely moved out yet. It’s only a fifteen minutes bus ride from the hole Louis is at, and he doesn’t even think about it.

It’s probably really creepy, to show up like this unannounced but Louis doesn’t think about it until he rings the bell and Harry opens the door. His mouth fall opens and his eyes widen.

“Right,” Louis says instead of a greeting. “I probably should have thought this through.”

“Louis,” Harry says, still wearing a stunned expression. “Hi.”

“Hey. Can I come in?” Louis asks.

Harry’s eyes are still comically round with shock as he steps aside and lets Louis in. “Sure.”

Once inside, Louis takes a moment to look around. The flat is bare, unsurprisingly. White walls and one or two furnitures remain in the living room, but it’s obvious he won’t be here for long.

“I was scared you might have already finished moving…”

“How did you find this place?” Harry asks, slightly worried, but mostly sounding curious.

“Oh,” Louis says, turning back towards Harry and smiling sheepishly. “I googled you,” he admits. “You might wanna fix that by the way. With the people you see it can’t be safe to have your address so easily available. Who knows what creep could develop an obsession or something!” Louis babbles nervously, messing with his fringe. He feels better now that he’s not alone, but he’s still not sure how to explain it.

Harry simply stares. “You mean, other than you?”

“What?” Louis asks, distracted.

“I said, other creeps than you? It was a poor joke, never mind,” Harry says quickly.

“Oh, right. Yeah, It's probably a bit creepy that I’m here, sorry.” Louis doesn’t make a move to go though. He can be creepy for a little while, that could work. He’s not ready to leave Harry’s calm presence yet anyway. As long as he’s here he can focus on pleasant things for a change.

Harry shrugs while Louis starts looking around curiously. “I don’t mind. You just surprised me.”

Louis can’t help but smile at that. He runs a finger along the top of a bureau, gathering dust under his fingertips. He stops the movement when he notices a frame face down. Curious, he reaches for it. His smile grows when he sees the boy and girl in the picture. Harry can’t have been older than eight in it. He looks adorable.

“Me and my sister.” Harry points to the frame in Louis’ hand.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “I can tell.”

Harry smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” he asks, clearly happy about it.

“The dimple can’t lie,” Louis replies, pointing to the girl’s cheek.

Harry laughs. “I guess,” he says. “She dyed her hair blonde recently though so we don't look that alike anymore. Like, it’s not that obvious.”

Louis doubts it makes a difference. They practically have the same face, or at least they did, and he’s pretty sure that couldn’t have changed that much. “Right. You could be fraternal twins, but of course the hair. That must throw people off,” Louis says offhandedly as he puts the picture back on the bureau. It wobbles a little. The frame is meant to be on a wall, but Louis can’t see any nails hanging out. Harry probably already got rid of them. Still, he takes a few seconds to readjust the picture, making sure it doesn’t angle too far away from the wall that supports it. It’s a cute picture, Louis finds, and it shouldn’t be turned down. When he turns around, Harry is staring at him intensely, like he’s looking for something into Louis’ eyes, Louis’ face. He stops breathing for a moment, feeling heavy under Harry’s scrutiny. The instant passes, as sudden as it came, and Harry walks back towards his kitchen.

“Tea?” he calls out to Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis says weakly. He coughs and clears his throat. “Yes please,” he repeats.

He follows Harry to the kitchen, can’t bear being alone even for a second.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re here?” Harry asks as he busies himself with the kettle.

“I…” Louis gulps. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight,” he admits. It’s only a partial truth, but it feels like a big admission. “I can leave if you want… If it’s inappropriate or-”

“No, of course not. Why would it be? You’re not a patient anymore.”

Louis is faced with Harry’s back and he can’t help staring a little. It’s a nice back; strong and broad. Louis can see the muscles shift under Harry’s black t-shirt as he reaches for two mugs.

“I guess not.”

Harry looks back with a soft smile. “What’s this about?”

Louis shrugs, throat tight. He feels so silly. His eyes close without his permission and he knows he must look a complete mess. At least he feels like one.

“Lou,” Harry sighs. Louis feels him close suddenly, at arms reach, and he’s not sure what to do, or how to deal.

“I’m fine.” Louis opens his eyes to stare into Harry’s skeptical gaze. “I’m fine,” he repeats with more conviction.

“Do you want a hug?” Harry offers. “I’ve been told I’m a A+ hugger.”

Louis chuckles weakly in response. He shakes his head. “Nah. Pretty sure if you hug me now I’m gonna start sobbing like a baby.”

“That’s okay,” Harry replies, putting a hand on Louis’ waist.

“Except for how it’s really not.”

They’re standing too close to each other and Harry’s too warm. Louis hates how much he wants that stupid hug, but still won’t let himself have it. Harry laughs softly and shakes his head, like Louis is the silliest person he’s ever met. Who knows, maybe he is.

“It really is,” Harry says wrapping his other arm around Louis’ shoulder and pressing him close.

Time stops. Louis’ arms wrap themselves around Harry’s waist, holding tight. He breathes a sigh of relief and allows himself to enjoy the moment. Neither of them say anything. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but peaceful. It reminds him of mornings when he was younger. When his mother had worked the night shift and he was in charge of breakfast for all the girls. She’d stumbled into the house exhausted after a night at the hospital and would stay awake long enough to give them each a forehead kiss before going to sleep. They’d eat quietly, whispering to each other, everything soft like the sunlight streaming through the windows, lighting dust particles on its way. Harry is solid around Louis. The world ceases to exist for a little while as they hug.

Louis is not sure who starts the motion, but suddenly they’re not hugging anymore. Harry is still close, too close, both hands touching Louis. The one on his shoulder slides up to his jaw, his cheek, and it’s only when Harry wipes the tears that Louis realizes he’s started crying.

“It’s okay,” Harry says in a raspy voice.

Louis shakes his head; nothing in his life is okay. Harry nods in response and he bends a little to kiss Louis’ forehead. Louis looks up and suddenly they’re kissing, softly, slowly. Louis moans quietly, his fingers tightening around Harry’s hips. He can’t remember the last time he was touched like that, without brutality or an agenda. They lips separate and they breath in each other’s mouth for a few seconds before Harry starts pressing little kisses up and down Louis’ neck. He reaches Louis’ ear and bites playfully. Louis gasps, feeling a spike of arousal shooting through his entire body. Harry chuckles quietly at his response and Louis feels like playdough in his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispers shakily.

“Yeah,” Harry says, licking into Louis' mouth, hands already reaching to take Louis’ hoodie off.

They take a step back for a few seconds, staring at each other, looking for confirmation. Harry's eyes are wide and his mouth is red and he's panting a little, clearly as overwhelmed as Louis feels. He's never been more beautiful. They both reach out to each other again and start kissing hectically. Harry's hands are everywhere, on Louis' neck, in his hair, on his lower back. They stop kissing briefly, long enough for Louis to reach behind and take his t-shirt off. He throws it on floor without a care before grabbing Harry’s neck and licking filthily into his mouth. Now that he’s kissed Harry, he’s not sure he can ever stop.

Louis yelps in surprise a couple of minutes later when he feels Harry’s fingers digging into his thighs and lifting him up. He wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, tight, letting his fingers bury themselves in the other man’s curls. Harry keeps Louis cradled close for a few more minutes - gripping, licking, moaning - before walking towards to the counter. He drops Louis on it and reaches for the button on his jeans, struggling to open it. It’s both too fast and not fast enough. Louis feels everything, all at once.

“Shit,” Harry says, tugging on the offensive material. “Take them off,” he pleads, hiding his head in Louis neck, before sucking softly on the skin. “Please...“

Louis opens his trousers with trembling fingers and squirms to push them off. He barely manages, they stick to his thighs, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. It’s enough for him. Louis thinks it’s hardly fair that he’s almost already naked while Harry reminds clothed, but the thought escapes him when Harry’s hand reaches in his pants and wraps firmly around his cock.

“Yes,” Louis moans, weak, dazed with arousal.

Harry gives him a few thugs before dropping to his knees. “Fuck,” Louis says at the sight. His moans turns into giggles as he watches Harry struggling with his shoes and jeans, trying to take them out of the way.

“Dammit,” Harry complaints, pulling firmly. “Stop laughing,” he threatens, before biting Louis’ thighs through the denim. Louis’ head falls back against a cupboard and he glances down to see Harry smirks with satisfaction.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Louis complaints.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Harry argues as he finally manages to get the trousers off. “Yes!” he exclaims, pumping his fist, and it’s so stupid and dorky, Louis can’t help the fondness swimming in his belly.

“Come here,” Louis says and Harry obeys immediately, presses their forehead together and puts both of his hands on Louis’ hips. It shouldn’t be this hot, to just breathe together, but it is. It’s hotter than Harry’s hands on his cock or his mouth on Louis’ neck. It’s more intimate and slow. It’s just them, breathing. Louis reaches for Harry’s skintight jeans, knowing he must be uncomfortable. He pops the button open and slips inside, feeling Harry’s hardness. Harry gasps and presses even closer, pulls Louis’ lower lip between his. They start kissing again as Louis jerks Harry off through his briefs.

“Take your t-shirt off,” Louis says because he needs to see, he needs to feel the skin of Harry's back, those muscles he was observing a few seconds ago. Louis needs to see and feel, he wants the proofs that this is really happening.

Harry nods and obeys quickly as Louis keeps stroking him. His hands are shaking slightly as he passes his head through the top. Louis smiles, surprised to see the dozens of tattoos decorating Harry’s body. He hadn’t expected that. Harry doesn't seem the type with his gentle heart and stumbling feet. They fit him though, silly and a little bit hot. Louis reaches down, kissing and biting the birds on Harry’s collarbones. They’re gorgeous, like the rest of him, a bit quirky and a lot lovely. Louis manages to concentrate long enough to take his mouth off Harry's chest and then goes to his knees, kissing the might as well scribbled on Harry’s hip. Well, who is he to disobey? He takes Harry’s cock out of his pants and breathes hotly over the head for a few seconds, looking up. Harry’s cheeks and torso are flushed and his eyes are glassy, greener than ever before. Louis smiles before licking the head. Harry big hand slides through Louis’ fringe, soft, affectionate. Louis drops his gaze back to the task at hand and takes Harry’s cock in his mouth sucking thoroughly, cheeks hollowed and eyes closed.

Harry’s fingers are delicate, roaming through Louis’ hair, caressing calmly. After a few minutes, he pulls Louis off and drops to his knees as well, before kissing Louis’ cheekbones. Louis lets out a shaky breath and smiles timidly.

“Hey,” Harry says.

“Hey,” Louis replies, amused.

Harry giggles and starts pushing Louis backwards until he gets the hint and lays himself on the kitchen floor. He jerks a little at the cold and Harry laughs, rubbing their nose together.

“Not funny Harold, it’s freezing.”

“I bet I can get you hot again,” Harry says in Louis’ ears and it’s a fair comment because Louis does feel the temperature rising as Harry traces the shell of his ear with his tongue.

“So cheesy,” Louis moans as Harry’s hips shift and, suddenly, they're completely pressed together, chest to chest, dick to dick. Harry shakes his head, about to protest, when Louis tilts his hips up, demanding friction. Harry closes his mouth, forgets what he was about to say, and kisses Louis instead. They stumbles with Louis’ pants for a while and finally - finally - their bare cock rub together filthily, messy with precome and Louis’ saliva. Louis gasps, wrapping his legs around Harry’s thighs, pressing them even closer.

“Shit,” Harry pants in Louis neck, before starting to move.

“Don’t stop,” Louis warns, thrusting up, letting his hands grip Harry’s lower back. Louis knows he won’t last very long. Not like this. Not when it feels so good and it’s been so long. He can feel Harry everywhere, can hear his short breaths as he thrusts and thrusts. Louis whines when Harry's hands moves from his hips, to his lower back, to his arse, grabbing a handful. One long finger moves towards the cleft, rubs at his hole, and makes Louis shudder with want.

"God," Harry whimpers and this is it. Louis feels himself tense, letting a loud moan out as he comes all over himself, all over Harry.

Harry thrusts even harder against Louis. His mouth is everywhere, biting Louis' neck, licking his collarbones, panting in his mouth. Louis feels boneless, relaxed like he hasn't been in so long. He grabs the curls at the base of Harry's neck, pressing Harry's forehead against his, staring into his eyes as Harry comes, trembling and gasping. He falls heavy on top of Louis, mouthing absently at his neck, fingers moving into the mess they made on his stomach.

For the first time in months, Louis doesn't think about anything.

 

*

 

Nick curses and wraps his arms tighter around himself. It's windy, it's rainy, it's really cold and he's really late. He finally arrives at the small movie theatre, pays for his ticket and gets in. The room is empty save for Simon and a guy sleeping in the back. The ambiance is a bit spooky. Nick moves to the front and sits down.

Simon just glares. "Took your time," he accuses.

"I had a meeting with my team about the rat situation. I couldn't exactly tell them I had to meet you," Nick argues. He's playing with fire here, he knows it.

"Fair enough," Simon admits.

"Do you have it?" Nick asks and Simon nods, taking a big yellow envelope out of his coat. Nick grabs it and peaks inside.

"It’s all there," Simon says. "Everyone that was there that night filled it."

"Good," Nick says. "I’ll run these through, see what comes up."

"You have to find him," Simon tells him seriously, voice cold. "That fucking rat’s been messing us up for too long. You gotta find him and I’ve gotta punish him."

"Hey, don’t worry," Nick replies. "You have to trust me on this. I’ll find the rat. I promise. "

"I’m gonna fucking destroy him," Cowell threatens. "Now get out of here before someone sees you," he instructs.

"I’ll call you as soon as I got something. Don’t worry, yeah? I’m on Payne. He’ll let something slip eventually. And with these," Nick says holding the envelope out. "We’ll get him."

Nick grabs Simon’s shoulder before leaving the theatre. He thinks he notices some movement from the guy sleeping, in the corner of his eyes, but as soon as he turns to look, all he sees is a still form. Probably some homeless dude, looking for a bit of warmth in this awful weather, Nick figures.

 

Louis closes his eyes as soon as he sees the guy - the rat! the traitor! - walking back towards the exit. His heart is pounding but he can’t bring himself to look. He was right. Simon _is_ looking for him. Not only that, but Simon is angry, furious and wants him dead. He hasn’t actually said so, but Louis knows what punish means for a man like that.

Louis waits a few seconds, until he’s sure the other man has left. He looks towards Simon’s seat. He seems totally fascinated by the movie. Louis has to act fast. He jumps out of his seat as quietly as possible and tries to follow the dark figure he barely glimpsed. He heard everything. He knows, for sure, that this is the man they’ve been looking for. He has to get him.

Once he reach the door, he panics a little because the street is empty. The traitor is gone, with him the envelope containing their information and any chances Louis had to get him.

"Fuck," Louis mumbles, tightening his fist. He was so close and now everything is ruined.

He hears a branch crack somewhere in the alley next to the theatre and he starts running, getting his phone out. He stops right before turning the corner. _Visual contact with suspect_ , he types for Liam as he turns quietly in the dark alley and sees the man walking in front of him. He follows, as smoothly as possible. He can’t spook him and he can’t do anything until he gets Liam’s permission.

He’s itching to get closer. It’s too dark to really see a thing, no features are striking or standing out except that the guy is tall, which means he could, literally, be anyone. His phone chimes, the screen lightening with _make arrest_ as the man turns around and notices him. They can’t see each other’s face. Louis knows his identity is safe, but it’s not what worries him as he scrambles after the man. He has longer legs than Louis and is a few meters ahead, but Louis knows he’s fast. He’s getting close, too close for comfort apparently, and the guy turns abruptly into a street, passes right in front of a car. Louis has to stop to let it go and when he starts running again, the man has already reached a busier corner. Amidst all the people out on the street, despite the late hour, Louis can’t find him.

 

*

 

The next day passes slowly, every seconds tainted by the fear that the man saw everything. Any minute could be Louis’ last because he might have been seen. He might have caught a glimpse of Louis. He might have heard his voice. He might have notice something remarkable. He might have. Louis doesn’t know. He sits at the pub with Zayn, tense and nervous, hating the unknown more than anything. He wishes Cowell would call or come and get him. Anything but this uncertainty.

"Hey, did you know, we’re doing the exchange next saturday?" Zayn asks.

"Exchange?"

Zayn looks at him expectantly. "The microprocessors? The real ones? The real buyer and everything?"

"Oh," Louis simply replies, not in the mood. He’ll have to tell Liam.

"What’s up with you?" Zayn ends up asking, wearing a worried frown.

"What?" Louis says. 

Zayn sighs. "Ever since the whole paperwork thing you’ve been really tensed?"

Louis shakes his head, trying to come up with a good explanation for his behaviour. "I slept with my therapist," is what he ends up saying without meaning to.

Zayn chokes on his beer, half coughing, half laughing. Louis really didn’t mean to say that. But he’s been thinking about it obsessively and he figures if those are to be his last moments, he might as well spend them talking about something pleasant.

"What?" Zayn simply says when he gets back in control.

"I have to see this shrink, right? For my probation?"

Zayn nods knowingly. "So you banged her?" he teases. "Wow, hopefully she’ll write you up a good review. Wouldn’t want your poor performance to be mentioned in court."

"Shut up!" Louis says. "He’s not really my shrink anymore… I switched and then there was a lot of tea and we’re friends? I think. But then there was sex. And he has a boyfriend so it’s kind of messed up."

Zayn nods knowingly. "So, you like him?"

Louis shrugs, glad that Zayn didn’t make a big deal of the whole liking guys thing. He didn't think he would. Louis thinks for a fews seconds, trying to find an appropriate answer. He does like Harry. He’s not really allowed, but he does. "Yeah, he’s nice."

"Does he know?" Zayn asks, gesturing to the pub, the others scattered around.

"’Course not!" Louis replies, horrified. He’d rather die than to have Harry aware of all the shit he’s been up to, no matter how nice it would be to share something this important with him. He couldn’t deal with Harry’s disappointment. "Court ordered shrink remember?"

"Oh yeah. I guess not telling was a smart move."

"Besides, his boyfriend’s a detective..." Louis admits. It’s not something he likes to think about.

"Harsh," Zayn concedes. "Have you talked to him since..." Zayn wiggles his eyebrows.

"No..." Louis replies. He hasn’t been able to gather the courage. He just left, in the early morning light, without a glance towards Harry’s sleeping form. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how truly fucked up their situation is and the more guilty he feels. "What’s the point? I mean..."

"Well, there’s a point if you like him?" Zayn suggests, as if it’s obvious.

"It’s too complicated. He’s got something stable going on… He’s moving in with his boyfriend! I can’t just muck it all up for him. That’s not what friends do."

"He still slept with you. That ought to tell you something." Zayn argues, playing the devil’s advocate, as usual.

Louis shrugs, unwilling to go there. He’s not quite sure what it meant. He knows what he wants it to mean and  he knows what he hopes it mean. But he also knows what he thinks it meant. He’s not trusting his twisted opinions. It was wonderful and intimate. For him. But it could have been a pity fuck, for all Louis knows. He's not inside Harry's brain and he’s trying not to get his hopes up. Besides, it’s not like he can see Harry again. Not as long as he’s trapped in this situation.He played enough with both their safety. He's promised, once again, that he would stay away from him now. He hopes he can keep it this time.

"Listen, I’m supposed to pick something at Jamie’s, but it’s gonna be okay, Louis," Zayn tells him seriously, a supportive hand on his back.

"Thanks mate," Louis replies and he does feel better, only slightly, but still.

The feeling quickly disappears when Simon walks in, ten minutes later. Every fear and insecurity comes slamming back into Louis’ chest. Violently. He tries to read Simon’s expression, see if he knows, if he looks furious. His face is blank, as usual. Louis’ heart speeds up when Simon notices him and starts walking towards his table. Fuck.

"Louis," Simon simply says as he sits down.

"Sir," Louis replies, voice even, assured.

"How are you Louis?" Simon asks and it’s unnerving.

"I’m good. How are you?"

Simon sighs dramatically. "You might have noticed that we’ve had a few leaks recently," he admits.

Louis opens his mouth, hesitates for a few seconds, then speaks. "I’ve heard rumours."

"They’re not rumours Louis. There’s a rat in my crew."

"That’s..."

"A massive fucking problem. That’s what it is Louis."

Louis nods. "Yeah."

"A little rat, Tomlinson. A little rat, poking holes into all of my plans."

Louis stays silent. He knows what Cowell is doing, what he’s asking without asking.

"Ruining everything," Simon continues. "A little policeman in my crew, can you believe?"

Louis breathes deeply and pick up his courage. "Ask what you want to ask."

Simon looks slightly surprised at Louis’ determination.

"Listen, I’ll tell you anything you want to know right now," Louis continues, looking straight into Cowell’s eyes.

He feels no fear.

"I’m not the fucking rat."

 

*

 

Harry keeps moving his stuff in, bits by bits, until one day there’s nothing left and he officially lives with Nick. It’s weird. Nick doesn’t like weird. He knew that they weren’t a cheesy couple, the kind of people who are all over each other, but he feels like they should be a bit more loved up _considering_.

As it is, Harry is barely home, overcome with work, and Nick is still looking, relentlessly, for the man who chased him down the alley. He couldn’t see a face, barely even a body. He knows the man is fast and smaller than him. It doesn’t give him much to go with and includes half a dozen of Simon’s men.

"I got some take out," Harry says as he gets in, late, always late these days. They barely speak to each other and Nick doesn’t understand what’s happening. They were happy? Maybe. A little bit. And now everything is stiff, awkward, and he’s not quite sure what he’s done. "Hope you didn’t eat."

Nick shakes his head. He’s been too busy reading and rereading the information Simon gave him to feel hungry. There’s a desperation in his search. He simply has to find that man.

"Thanks," he reply as Harry pecks him on the mouth, before starting to empty his bag out. The delicious smell of Indian food fills the kitchen and Nick feels uneasy, like what needs to be said is on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite find it.

It’s only later, after they’ve eaten and watched some stupid telly, after they brushed their teeth and snogged a bit, after they went to bed and closed all lights, that Nick gathers the courage.

"If this is not gonna work," he says in the dark to Harry’s curls. "You’re gonna have to be the one who leaves. I don’t have it in me to break us up." He can feel Harry stiffens at the comment, but no matter how long he waits, eyes wide open, he doesn’t get an answer.

 

*

 

The next day, Nick sends Fincham and Sheeran to follow Payne around on the pretext that he might be the traitor. They protested at first, claiming it couldn’t be Liam, Saint-Liam with the entire station at his feet, but Nick managed to convince them.

"It could be anyone," he had claimed. "It could be anyone we trust. It could be the least expected person. We can’t leave any details or possibilities alone. We need to look at everyone."

They left without suspecting his ulterior motives.

Liam has to talk to his undercover at some point. He’ll lead Nick right to him. He has to. It’s Nick’s last plan. His only option at this point. 

His phone rings and he answers promptly when he sees that it’s Sheeran. He really needs to be lucky today. "Yes?"

"There’s something weird going on Sir," Ed says and Nick’s heart beats furiously. "I think he’s meeting up with someone."

This is it. He’s found it. It has to be it. "Where is he?" Nick asks frantically.

"A building on Dover Street, they moved to the roof. Address is 1660."

"Keep watching, okay?" Nick says. He puts the call on speaker and drops his mobile on his desk. He opens a text to Simon, telling him where Liam Payne is and, more importantly, who he’s probably with.

"You don’t do anything and you keep watching Sheeran."

 

Louis arrives at the chosen building on Dover Street a little bit early. He paces in front of the door, waiting for Liam, before he gets tired and walks in. He doesn’t like the feeling of exposure. He knows there’s little chance he’ll be caught here, but still. He doesn’t want to risk it. When he finally reaches the roof, he starts to pace again. His phone rings.

"Where are you?" Louis asks.

"I’m here," Liam’s calming voice replies. "I’m in front of the building, where are you?"

"The roof."

"I’m coming up."

It’s another couple of tensed minutes before Liam finally shows up.

"Louis," he smiles. "How are you?" he asks first and Louis really likes him for it. Horan always demands information before news of his well being and it’s nice to have someone care, even if it’s just for show.

Louis doesn’t know how to answer though. He doesn’t really feel much these days, too wrapped up in his own anxiety. He doesn’t think Cowell suspects him, not anymore, but still. Nothing is certain and he lives day by day, waiting until the whole operation falls apart. He simply shrugs, not trusting his voice with this particular answer.

"It’s happening saturday," Louis says instead.

"What is?" Liam asks.

"The exchange. The real one. I’m certain of it."

"Really?" Liam says. "Louis that’s great. Do you know where?"

"Not yet. I just learned about it. I’ll call as soon as I know."

"Good, good," Liam says absently, probably already planning the whole operation in his mind.

"Have you found out anything?" Louis asks. "About the guy in our unit?"

Liam simply groans in response. "No. We’ve got a team on it, but they’ve got nothing. He’s like a ghost."

Louis shakes his head.

"Cowell doesn’t suspect you?" Liam asks gently.

Louis shrugs in response. He wishes he knew. "I don’t think so? I told him clearly it wasn’t me and I think he believed me but..."

Liam waits a few seconds for Louis to continues. When it gets obvious that he’s not going to say anything, he prompts: " But?"

"It doesn’t really matter, yeah?" Louis says. "He’s going to find out eventually! It won’t stay a secret forever."

"Louis-"

"He’s gonna find out and he’s gonna kill me. So we might as well do as much damage as we can. Starting with those stupid chips and his fucking rat."

"You’re not going to die Louis. I promised you that."

Louis avoids Liam’s gaze and scratches his forehead, uncomfortable. He knows Liam promised and it’s not that he doesn’t trust him because he does. Liam is a man of his word and he’s good at his job, but Louis is so entangled with them now. He doesn’t know if it’s a mess that can be undone. He doesn’t know how his life could ever be only _his_ again.

"I meant it. It’s going to be okay."

Louis nods and just as he’s about to reply, his phone rings. The red phone.

Liam's face goes serious. "Answer it," he says sombrely.

"Yeah?" Louis says into the phone and he’s a bit surprised when it’s Zayn’s voice on the other side.

"Where are you?" he asks, overexcited. "Never mind. We got the rat. He’s meeting with Payne right now. You got a pen? It’s 1616 Dover Street. We’re almost there, so you better hurry up."

Louis closes his eyes and the phone. "Shit," he swears.

"Louis?"

"You were followed."

"What?" Liam asks, incredulous, insulted.

"They know we’re here. They’re coming to get the rat. Now." Louis is starting to panic at the prospect. What are they gonna do? What could he possibly say? Would they believe that he was already in the area and got there faster? He can already hear the tires of a van breaking abruptly below them and they’re there, it has to be them. He has no where to hide.

"Go," Liam says, pushing Louis firmly towards the door.

"What?" Louis asks, panicked and trembling. 

"Take the back stairs and come back up, like you’re joining them..."

"What? No. What about you?" Louis asks, even more worried than before. He can’t possibly leave Liam alone with these people.

"I’ll be okay, " Liam assures him. There’s already noises in the building. "Go, Louis. Now."

Louis nods, raising his hand towards Liam before stopping himself and running to the stairs. He doesn’t have the time to think. He just runs. He goes down, and down, and doesn’t meet anybody. They probably took the elevator.

Once he finally reaches the bottom floor, he walks around, looking for the back door for a few moments. When he finds it, he steps into the sun and hears the shouts. There’s a struggle on the roof. People are screaming. He walks around the building, passing the van and finally walking back to the front entrance when something comes crashing from the roof. He doesn’t have the time to understand or acknowledge what's happening when Liam’s body thuds on the concrete, blood hitting Louis in the face. He’s frozen for a moment, staring into Liam’s empty eyes.

He’s about to move towards the body, to close the eyes or touch his face, when Cowell’s men start stumbling out of the building.

"Where the hell were you?" Zayn asks.

"What the fuck happened?" Louis yells, pointing to the body.

"Where the hell were you?" Parker repeats angrily.

"I didn’t have a signal, I just go the call. I came to meet you. What happened? Where’s the rat?"

"Get in the van," Parker says frustrated.

Louis’ head feels heavy, confused and he thinks he might actually puke if he moves, but he still forces himself to. There’s a shout to his left and suddenly guns are firing. Disoriented, Louis turns around and see two police officers, out of a surveillance van, shooting at them enthusiastically. He doesn’t have the time to process what’s happening or even think about the implication. Someone curses loudly and they all shoot and try to protect themselves at the same time with little success. It’s only when they’ve all managed to get back into the car and have finally fled the scene that Louis notices the blood flowing from Zayn’s chest.

 

*

 

"What the fuck was your stupid team doing surveilling him anyway?!" Horan yells at Nick when he learns what happened.

"I was investigating the possibility that DSC Payne was in infiltration for Cowell."

Nick is glad for Paul Higgins’ arms around Horan’s torso. He has an inkling that they’re the only thing stopping him from getting hit in the face.

"Fuck you, you motherfuckin’ cunt!"

"I don’t have to explain myself to you. He was meeting somebody somewhere suspicious. I was given this assignment to review everyone in this goddamn office, so stop behaving like an idiot."

"Oh yeah, does your assignment includes leaving a senior officer defenceless against a bunch of killers while you had two perfectly capable other officers on the scene?!!" Niall yells.

"We weren’t sure what was happening, I didn’t want to put anyone in danger," Nick argues.

Horan manages to get free and Nick doesn’t even have the time to see it coming before pain explodes in his skull and he falls backwards.

"Hey!" Higgins yells. "Horan, get off of him!"

They wrestle for a while, cursing each other, biting and punching. Finally, Higgins manages to separate them, earlier than Nick wishes. He hasn’t had the opportunity to hit as much as he would have like.

He’s really upset and angry. He almost had the rat, but they failed, once again, to ID him. Sheeran and Fincham’s report are useless and he’s back to square one. He wants to punch someone again. Hard.

"You," Higgins says, pointing towards Horan. "Get out of here. You’re suspended."

Satisfaction blossoms in Nick’s brain. At least one good thing is happening today.

 

*

 

The small room at the back of the pub is filled with yells and chaos, people arguing about the best course of action. No one wants to take Zayn to the hospital. They can’t risk it. Parker is yelling at their incompetence and everyone looks either blasé or sick of it. Louis wants to yell as well. Yell at them for killing Liam and not caring. Yell at them for wasting time when one of them is clearly in pain, but he can’t find a voice. He just sits next to Zayn, too ashamed to look at him in the eyes.

"You know… what I thought about?" Zayn says with difficulty.

Louis manages to look at him. He shakes his head.

"I figured. The one person who doesn’t show up has to be the rat, right? It makes sense." He’s looking up seriously and Louis is filled with a sense of dread. "You’ve never been late before Louis. Not for something like this."

They stare at each other for a second.

"Besides, I got it wrong."

"What?" Louis asks, hoping this isn’t what he thinks it is, hoping he’s interpreting this wrong somehow.

"The address. I gave you the wrong one. But you still showed up at the right place."

Louis’ entire body goes cold. He reaches for his gun, quickly, without thinking, and that’s what haunts him hours later. How he barely hesitated. How ready he was to kill for his secrets. Zayn is quicker though, gripping his arm desperately.

“Why didn’t I say anything, huh?” he asks firmly.

Louis’ heart is erratic, ready to jump out his chest violently and make a run for it because Zayn knows. _He knows. He knows. He knows._ Louis is exposed and terrified; Liam is dead, Zayn knows and everything has been wrong for so long, but never more so than now. He risks a look towards the others, scattered across the room. Parker is still yelling at them for this catastrophe.

“Tell me why Louis?” Zayn insists, fingers digging painfully in Louis’ forearms.

They stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, wasting time as the gaping hole in Zayn’s chest worsens. He doesn’t know. Louis doesn’t know and he certainly doesn’t understand because he’s a traitor and he should be dead. And yet, Zayn doesn’t call the others. He doesn’t tell them about the address. He doesn’t call on the fact that Louis was late. He doesn’t betray Louis’ secret. He just stares at Louis. He stares at Louis and he dies.

Louis is… Louis is going to throw up or cry and he can’t do either in front of Cowell’s crew. He’s supposed to be one of them; tough and rough and happy that motherfucker Liam Payne is finally out of their way.

He promised. Liam promised he was going to get Louis safely out of there.

Louis can feel his hands starting to shake. He’s itching for something to numb the pain. He knows his pills are back at his place even though he also knows someone like him should always have some on his person. That’s what his new doc said anyway. He can’t risk it though. He can’t risk someone finding them. Cowell trusts him. Miraculously, Cowell still trusts him and Louis has a job to do. The mask is on and can’t afford to slip. He takes a deep breath, closes Zayn’s eyes softly and rises from his squeaky chair.

“He’s dead,” he announces unemotionally.

Zayn is, _was_ , a criminal. Louis cannot afford to be upset. Parker groans angrily and the rest of the crew react similarly. No one looks sad.

“I’m knackered,” Louis says, walking towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Parker asks. “Walsh is gonna be here any minute!”

Louis hates them all, but Parker even more so. “I’m tired,” he repeats slowly, but firmly. “I’m going back home.”

“ Walsh is gonna want to talk to all of us,” Parker insists.

“There’s not much to say,” Louis replies as he leaves.

 

He manages three steps out before he turns and pukes in an alley. His breathing is jerky, fitful. He’s not going to have a panic attack. He cannot have a panic attack. He's not going to.

“Get a grip, Tomlinson,” he mutters to himself, one hand pressed against a brick wall, the other tightly clenched in his hair.

He starts walking back home, the prospect of his valium giving strength to each of his steps. It’s only when he reaches his destination that he realizes he meant to go to Harry’s office all along.

Louis sighs, exhausted. He sits on a bench. Harry won’t be done for the day for at least another fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that Louis should use to get back to his place; to the emptiness of a flat filled with deafening silence and crippling fear. He can’t bring himself to though. He can’t bring himself to move. The sound of DCS Payne hitting the concrete is a loop in his mind. Playing again and again and again... He's not thinking about it. He's not thinking about the sonogram on Liam's fridge, the one he was so proud of, showing it off like a trophy... He’s not going to think about it.

Louis wraps his arms around his knees, presses his face into them and breathes. He’s going to be okay. He has to. He breathes, willing himself to calm down enough to get back home. He shouldn’t be here and he knows it. He still lets out a relieved sigh when he hears Harry’s voice.

“Louis?”

He sounds concerned. They don’t know each other as much as he’d like to, but Louis wants to bury himself in the deep drawl. He wants to hide in it until Liam, and Zayn, and Cowell, and his mother and sisters, and everything is nothing but a faint echo, something that used to matter once but can’t touch him anymore. Harry sits next to him, putting a reassuring hand on Louis’ neck.

“Did something happen?” he asks. “Are you alright?” he adds quickly, like it matters.

Louis nods. He breathes deeply one last time before untangling himself. “Yeah,” he replies with what he wishes is a smile, but is probably a grimace. Fake and improved Louis would manage a convincing smile at least...

Harry’s thumb rubs his neck soothingly. “You shouldn’t be here,” he scorns softly.

Louis nods. He doesn’t need to be let down, not by Harry, even though he knows it’s best for both of them.

“Yeah, out in the open is a pretty bad idea... Wouldn’t want the detective inspector to see,” Louis jokes.

He feels guilty the moment it’s out of his mouth though because Harry’s face falls. He gulps and take his hands away from Louis, tangling them between his knees. This is the opposite of what Louis wanted.

“You’re right,” Harry says more firmly, like he's trying to convince himself. _No, I’m not,_ Louis thinks. _I’m really not. I don’t care about your boyfriend. I don’t care about anything._ He stays silent though. Harry’s presence is reassuring, better than valium, and as long as they’re together, even in silence, Louis is able to keep the panic attack at bay.

He’s not thinking. This silence isn't heavy. Not like the one he's used to. This one is comfortable. Safe. Such a rarity in his life these days. In that second, Louis wishes he could tell Harry the truth. It’s stuck in it’s throat, aching to get out. It makes it hard to breath. Louis thinks that if he could tell someone, anyone, the truth, than maybe the tightness in his chest would loosen. Maybe he’d forget about all those people he’s hurt, all those people he’s watched being hurt. Maybe if he told Harry specifically then everything would be okay. He wishes he could tell Harry about the brutality he has to soak up into every single day and how good it feels to be next to someone soft and sweet for a change. Yesterday, Parker got angry because of a parking ticket and beat the crap out of one of their part time dealer. Louis just stood there in silence, they all did, while Parker kicked and kicked just because he could. He wishes he could tell Harry everything. But he can’t. So he stays silent and hopes the other can't see, or feel, him shaking.

"Why are you here Louis?" Harry finally asks after a while and Louis is so grateful he hasn't left yet.

He gulps and shrugs. Harry shakes his head, clearly frustrated.

"I thought we were past that," he says calmly despite his annoyance.

Louis likes him more than he should. "Past what?" he replies teasingly, weakly, even though he knows.

"Past you being all closed off. I thought we were friends."

Louis laughs bitterly. "Is that what we are?" he asks.

He can still feel Harry's hands on him; the weight of his body on top of him and the ghost of their shared breath.

"Yes," Harry replies insistently. "I'm not..." He pauses and passes a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls and giving himself a disheveled look. "I'm not your therapist anymore. You can trust me."

He's looking straight into Louis eyes with a burning sincerity and Louis does. Louis does trust him and that's terrifying. So he jokes his way through it.

"So I couldn't trust you as a shrink, is what you're saying?" Louis teases.

Harry smiles a little and looks at the ground, almost like he's trying to hide it. "I'm saying you wouldn't trust me when I was your shrink, but I'm hoping you can trust me as your friend."

Louis has to look away. He cannot do this or feel this. No matter how much he needs it. Or wants it.

"What's happened?" Harry asks again, insistent.

Louis already puked, but he still really wants to cry.

"Are you in trouble?" Harry tries again and Louis starts to laugh.

He actually laughs; opened mouth and crinkled eyes. Is he in trouble?! Louis shakes his head, still laughing a little. Everything about this is so absurd.

"No," he lies because what could he possibly say... What answer could be possibly give Harry? Beautiful, kind Harry who already gave him too much. 

Harry sighs again. 

"I'm not sure if I can believe you," he admits.

Louis bites his lips. “Then don’t,” he snaps because he is in trouble and he is tired. He is so tired.

“Louis...” Harry says softly before enveloping him in a hug Louis knows he doesn’t deserve.

Still, he hides his face in Harry’s neck and breathes deeply. He wraps his hands around Harry’s waist, gripping tightly. He feels so broad and solid. Harry can’t let go, not yet, not now. Louis’ not ready. He needs the support, just a little while longer.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it, okay?” Harry whispers in his hair. “You can trust me. I can help.”

Louis feels his eyes tearing up and he clenches them tighter with embarrassment. Louis doesn’t cry in front of people. He never does. His mother was the sole exception and now she’s gone, taking away the rest of his family. Louis is utterly alone. He tries, tries so hard, to keep the tears at bay and remain calm, but he can’t. He feels them silently soaking Harry’s shoulder and Louis burrows his head deeper into his neck, hiding in shame. Harry doesn’t say anything though. He just keeps on stroking Louis’ back slowly, making soft reassuring noises.

“It’s gonna be okay Louis,” he keeps repeating and even though Louis knows it probably won’t, he tries to believe it for a few minutes.

Except he can't and the more he thinks about it, the more panicked he gets. He tries to muffle his sobs in Harry's shoulder, but Louis knows the young man can feel him shake. He tries to calm his breaths, he does, but he's drowning. He lets out whiny little moans and he feels so embarrassed. He's mortified. Harry doesn't falter though. He keeps on stroking Louis back slowly, his big hands almost covering him completely. He just makes the same shushing, reassuring noise, pressing little kisses on Louis' cheek and temple.

"I'm okay," Louis says shakily, breaths still coming in uneven bursts.

Louis is shaking from the inside. Every single one of his organ is quivering and Louis cannot get a grip.

"Shut up Lou," Harry says firmly, holding him even tighter even though it should be impossible."It's okay if you're not okay."

Louis would normally laugh at something like that because it's such a _Harry_ thing to say. But right now the only thing on his mind is drowning, drowning into a sea of fears. His lungs are filling up with dark thoughts, he cannot breath and he is dying, he must be.

"You're not going to die. You're safe."

Louis doesn't recall saying it out loud but Harry is vocalizing every single one of his fears and is trying to make them disappear. Louis really wouldn't deserve him even if he were free for him to want.

"Just take deep breaths, okay? Follow me."

Louis can feel Harry's breath purposefully slowing and he struggles to match it.

"That's good," Harry praises.

Louis doesn't think he did that well, but the encouragement feels nice. He keeps trying to match Harry's breath and as the minutes tick by, Louis does calm down. His mind is clearing. He's coming up for air. He still waits a moment before letting go. It’s earlier than he wishes and later than he should.

"I'm sorry," Louis finally says when he's finally gathered the courage to look up.

Harry's eyes are not judgemental though. They look soft and understanding. It's really aggravating when he does that. It makes it harder for Louis to feel indifferent.

“Don’t be,” Harry insists, like Louis knew he would.

He’s such a good person, such an amazing man, and Louis doesn’t know if he feels grateful for the opportunity to have met him or angry for having such unattainable perfection flaunted in his face.

"What happened?" Harry asks.

"Well Harold," Louis says with a fake cheerfulness. "I just had what we call a panic attack. I'm sure you're familiar with them giving your line of work..."

Harry doesn't look amused though. Usually, he laughs at Louis' jokes; this big, bright thing that looks actually painful. He's frowning now .

"Louis, please..." he begs for a truth that Louis cannot give.

"I have to go,"Louis says, getting up quickly, suddenly.

He can't be there anymore. He promised himself he wouldn't. This is dangerous for both them. They can't afford it. He's a bit uneasy on his feet until Harry's big hand presses against his hip, settling him.

"You don't have to go," Harry says softly. "You don't even have to talk. I'm sorry I'm pushing okay?"

Harry is still on the bench, hand against Louis' hip, big sincere eyes locked onto his. He gulps. "I'm just worried," he adds after a while.

"Don't be," Louis says firmly. "I'm okay, I really am."

Harry bites his lips for a second before gripping Louis’ t-shirt with his other hand. He drags Louis down to his level, manhandling him until he’s sitting on his lap, his thighs spread out around Harry’s tiny waist. They’re breathing together, sharing the same air and it's Louis favourite thing. Better than kissing. 

“If anything happens, anything... If you’re in trouble or scared or...” Harry stops himself. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night... Or if I’m working... You call me, okay?”

Louis nods even if he knows he won’t, he couldn’t.

“Okay?!” Harry repeats more forcefully and it sounds wrong.

Harry’s voice was made for whispering soft nothings in someone’s ear on a slow morning. It was made for stupid jokes and thoughtful musings, not for forcefulness, or sadness, or anger. Louis shouldn’t have made it sound like that. His self-loathing is interrupted by Harry lips on his, properly this time. They kiss for a while, open-mouthed and desperate, before they both remember they don’t belong to each other. Harry belongs to a faceless detective Louis can’t help but dislike and Louis... Louis belongs to Simon Cowell, and to Liam Payne, and to Niall Horan, and to the entire Criminal Investigation Department.

“Okay?” Harry repeats on Louis’ lips and it’s soft and nice again.

It’s the only reason Louis says “Yeah, okay.”

“Promise?” Harry asks, still trapping Louis against him, unwilling to let him go until he gets what he wants. Louis nods slowly.

“Promise,” he finally says as they let each other go.

Louis leaves and everything is cold again.

 

*

 

When he finally reach his dump of a flat, Louis feels exhausted. He just wants to sleep forever; burrow himself in a warm blanket and forget the world. Those lovely plans are cut short when his phone rings. _The phone_. The phone Liam Payne gave him. There's nothing that surprising about it, after everything that's happened today, it would make sense if DI Horan was trying to contact him. Except the screen isn't light up with Niall's code name. It's light up with Liam's one and Louis has a bad feeling about it. So he lets it ring. And ring. And ring until it stops. Biting his lips, he wonders who the hell would do something like this.

He gets up, planning to forget about the stupid thing completely. Except it's looking at him is the thing, staring into his soul, tempting him. He sits again. He can’t help but wonder... Who would call him on Liam’s phone? And for what purpose? Is it a joke? A trick? Or... Louis shakes his head, refusing to go there. Liam is dead. He fell off a seven storey building. Even if they all had to leave the site quickly because of the shooting and Louis couldn’t properly check, there’s no way.... There’s no way anyone could have survived that. Louis still remembers Liam’s blood splattering against his face. He’s dead. Liam’s dead and with it Louis’ hope of ever getting out of this godforsaken situation!

The phone rings again. They’d be having a staring contest if there was such things with inanimate objects. Louis stares. The phone rings. Sitting on his couch, biting his lower lip, Louis wonders. After a few minutes of silence, he can't tolerate it any longer. He grabs the phone clumsily. It slips in his sweaty hands. He's not nervous per say, but... He presses the buttons quickly, before he changes his mind, and takes a deep breath when it starts ringing. The mask is back on.

"Hello?" a deep northern voice answers and it rings a bell in Louis' mind, but it's most definitely not Liam. Or Niall.

"You called this number on a dead's man phone. So question is, who the fuck are you?"

He's blunt and rude. He has to be. There's a sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'm DI Grimshaw. Let me tell you first of all how glad I am that you're okay. We weren’t sure for a while there...We've all been worried."

The name is familiar, but Louis is not taking any risk. Not with this. Not with his _life_.

"Why are you calling me?" he says quickly. "What do you want?"

Louis doesn't think any of Cowell's men had time to check Payne's body in the midst of a shooting with coppers, so it's most likely a real DI he's talking to. Still.

"I'm taking over DCS Payne's unit. I'll be the one in charge of all undercover people. You can call me Nick."

It seems plausible enough, but... "Let me talk to DS Horan," Louis demands. "I want to confirm it."

DI Grimshaw is quick in his apologies.

"Of course, of course. I completely understand. Unfortunately, DS Horan is on a medical break right now. The shock of what happened..." The other's man voice trails off. "They were very close and with everything that's happened, Higgings figured it'd be best for him to take a few days off."

It makes sense of course. Everything this Nick Grimshaw has told him rings true.

"Listen," the DI continues. "We could meet up? Catch up on what you know about the microprocessors? And Cowell's rat?"

"No," Louis quickly replies.

"Okay, okay," Grimshaw says. "No meetups. Are you willing to talk to me on the phone? If you hear anything? I'm keeping Liam's mobile..."

Louis thinks about it for a second. "Phone works," he finally says. "I'll contact you."

He closes the phone firmly before taking in a deep breath. Things are getting more and more complicated and he's no closer to finding out who Cowell has on the inside. As long as there is a rat in, their work is doomed to failure. Louis needs to take them all down; for his neighbours, for his family, for Liam Payne's baby and most of all for himself.

 

*

 

Nick puts Payne's phone on his desk and lets out a frustrated sigh. He was so close. He was so, so close to finding out who the rat is. He can't believe it. He had him on the phone, he heard his voice and yet he couldn't quite place it. He curses Liam Payne, his _code names_ and his fierce desire to protect his undercover people. He quickly goes through the list of Cowell's men in his mind, but he's not sure he can put a face to the voice. Still, the connection is made and as weary and defensive as the man was, he's going to call back. Nick knows he will and one day, he's going to get him. He's going to get him and Simon is going to be very pleased. He keeps looking through Liam's stuff; through notebooks and files. There's no info on the undercovers. Nothing he can understand at least. Still, he powers through it. Something catches the corner of his eyes. It’s a small piece of paper. It’s torn and there’s a little scribble on it that makes Nick’s heart stop for a second. _Cowell = SOCA informant_. If it’s true then Nick might be completely and utterly fucked. He doesn’t even have the time to process the information when he hears Liam’s phone chimes with a new text. _Saturday, 21h, the docks, micro exchange_. He already knew that, obviously. Still. Nick closes the phone and gets up. He doesn’t know how true that scribble is but.... If it is, if there’s a risk that Cowell said anything about him to anyone in SOCA then he is in trouble. He’s doomed. He goes into Higgings’ office to give him the _new_ information about the microprocessors. He’s going to get to the bottom of this even if he has to trip a few friends on the way there. He’s not going down.

 

*

 

The next day, Louis is sitting in the pub with Parker and Walsh. They’re eating chips and watching the news. Zayn’s picture is on every television and the three of them are looking in shock.

“I can’t believe it” Tom says. “That fucking bastard!”

Louis is probably more shocked than the other two put together. Most likely. Zayn was a cop. Zayn was a cop too and that explains everything. Walsh is shaking his head at the screen.

“Can’t fucking trust anybody,” he says, irish accent made thicker by anger.

They’re both in the competition for most vulgar person Louis knows, but he can’t help but think about how different Niall and Walsh actually are. Niall can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but he doesn’t frighten Louis. He doesn’t have the same edge of insanity in his eyes, that look that says that there’s nothing he hasn’t done or wouldn’t do. There’s no limit with men like Walsh and Cowell. They have no morals and they don’t give a shit.

Both Parker and Walsh are staring at him expectantly. It’s his turn to say something. He knows it is, but…

“Yeah,” he mumbles simply.

“What’s up with you? Parker asks roughly.

Louis points to Zayn’s picture in his stupid police uniform. “I just can’t believe it... It was Zayn. All along...”

Louis shakes his head. He really can’t believe it. It was much easier pretending not to be upset when he still thought Zayn was a criminal. Now there’s nothing to rationalize himself with to keep the sadness away. He just feels the loss.

“You guys were pretty close, yeah?” Walsh asks and while there’s no suspicion in his voice Louis can never be sure.

“Well, I thought so!” he exclaims, trying to appear outraged, betrayed.

They had connected, they really had. Without knowing the other was in the same situation, they had simply connected like two people really do and it hurts to think about. Zayn’s gone too early, like everyone else, Louis figures. It’s always too early to lose someone you care about. Neither of them could really trust the other, not fully anyway. But Zayn was Louis’ only friend in this hole. That meant something.

The telly presenter keeps babbling on and on about organized crime in the city and the ongoing bravery of undercover officers who risk their lives every day to help protect Manchester’s citizens. It makes Louis cringe. The more she talks about courage, the more he wants to punch her in the face. He doesn’t feel particularly brave, if he’s honest with himself. And he’s pretty sure Zayn didn’t feel very brave either while he was choking on his blood. They’re desperate, like everyone else, and they’re just trying to do their jobs.

“ You nervous about Saturday?” Walsh asks him and Louis chuckles.

“Yeah, right?!” he replies sarcastically because he can’t really afford to be, if he wants things to go his way.

“You’re an arrogant little bitch, Tomlinson,” Parker adds, mouth full of chips. He’s foul. “But you’re good people,” he adds while putting a friendly hand on Louis’ shoulder.It makes his skin crawl.

Louis is really going to enjoy arresting them.

 

*

 

On friday, Louis shows up to Harry’s office again with an envelope. In it is everything Louis has learned about Cowell and his crew. He wrote down everything they’ve done in front of him, every single crime he’s witnessed and every single proof he can think of. He’s not taking any chance and he needs to give it to someone trustworthy. There’s no one more trustworthy than Harry in his circle. Truth to be told, there’s no one else really. He added a letter for Harry as an afterthought because he deserves to understand. Louis wrote every single truth he wanted to tell, every single truth he owed him. He writes Harry’s name clumsily on the envelope while riding the elevator and adds; _Do not open until two weeks or if something happens to me. Thank you. L.T._

Harry will understand. Louis knows he will. He just hopes that he managed to successfully put into words how much Harry’s presence made a difference to him. Louis hopes one day he can actually tell him how much more bearable Harry made everything for him. But not today though. Today, Louis approaches Harry’s office carefully, mindful of the creaky floor. He doesn’t, cannot, talk to Harry right now so he slides the envelope under the door and runs for it. No matter what happens tomorrow, this is it. Louis knows what he’s risking. His goodbyes are done.

 

*

 

On saturday night, Louis feels calm. Everything has been arranged with DI Grimshaw. There’s a team waiting for them and they won’t make the same mistake twice. They’re going for everyone, arresting the whole bunch. It ends now. Louis almost can’t believe it, but there it is.

They all pile up in two cars at the decided time. Louis’ not sure why they’re not taking the van. They’ve always taken the van before. A small voice inside of him reminds him that it was Zayn’s and they probably don’t want to associate with him in any way, no matter how small or stupid. Louis almost gets angry, until he remembers it’s only speculation and it’s not worth it. Not today. He needs to concentrate. It feels weird though, not having Zayn there. He’s never done a big operation like this without Zayn. It’s a bit strange, he knows, but they had their thing going on, while everyone else was being scary and important. Now he’s by himself, trying to accomplish something bigger than any of them could imagine.

“ Ready?” Simon asks from the front seat.

Louis nods. “Absolutely, sir.”

They ride to the docks in silence, concentrated and focused on the task at hand. When they arrive, the whole place is silent. It’s dark and quiet, absolutely spooky. They park next to the warehouse. It’s weird for Louis to think that not only their clients, but the police as well, are all lurking in the shadows. They start unloading the cars, boxes after boxes, and putting everything inside. It’s numbing. The wind is cold, biting, and Louis regrets not bringing gloves. He blows hot air in his hands before rubbing them together. It’s fitting that the evening is so gloomy. It would have been inappropriate to do this in any other circumstances.

“Is everything in?” Parker asks.

Someone confirms in the background and they all walk in. Louis clears his throat and gets in last, hoping for the last time that he’s going to get out.

 

Nick is going crazy. They unload their boxes and take ages and ages. Everyone is on edge. They all want to get in, but can’t do it too quickly. The have to wait, be patient. They can’t take or arrest anybody until the trade has actually started. Nick is still not sure as to where he stands, how he’ll act. He didn’t manage to convince the undercover to meet face to face, he doesn’t even have his name. He’s got nothing. Not only that, but now they’re about to ruin Simon’s biggest operation. And Nick hasn’t said a word to him about it. He feels so messed up about the SOCA thing, like he’s trapped in the moment where you expect the stairs to have one more step left and you suddenly hit the floor more violently than planned.

Only once every single of Cowell’s men has stepped inside the warehouse does Nick gives the instruction to get in. From there on, the world becomes a mess of shouts and gunshots.

Officers are yelling all around, _freeze_ and _you’re under arrest_ and all their variations. Nick is overwhelmed by what’s going on, but he never loses sight of his objective. He avoids a particularly nasty shot from Parker and turns a corner, hiding himself behind a pile of rubbish. He turns around and finds himself face to face with Simon. Finally.

“Nicholas,” Simon says, surprised to see him here. “I wasn’t aware we were having a visit from the police tonight.” His tone is accusatory.

“Is it true?” Nick asks, because he doesn’t care about anything at the moment. He just needs the truth. He needs to know what information Simon has been giving. And more importantly, who he gave it to.

“What are you talking about?” Simon asks, the picture of innocence. All this blood on his hands and he still manages to sound like this.

“Is it true you’re a SOCA informant?” Nick says. He doesn’t have time to fuck around.

Simon starts laughing, shaking his head. “You’re so naive, Nicholas.”

“Is it?!”

“Of course, it’s true.” Simon replies and Nick’s heart stops beating. “How did you think I managed to last this long?”

“Oh my-”

“Please,” Simon interrupts. “I never gave them anyone who wasn’t already going down.”

“Do they know about me?” Nick asks, panic settling in.

“Of course not.”

“Simon,” Nick warns. “What do they know about me?”

“Nothing!” Simon says. “I’d never give you up,” he continues, his voice mellow and seductive.

In that second, Nick really hates him. So, he shoots. Once, twice, three times. 

“Wha-” Simon starts, looking at where his blood is starting to stain the floor. He collapses without dignity and when Nick hears the fall of his body, he finally realises how silent the whole place has become.

“Grimmy?” Sheeran’s voice is asking in the distance. “You okay?”

Nick takes a breath before answering. “Yes. I got him. I got Cowell.”

 

*

 

Despite how exhausted he is as he gets back to the station, Nick can’t escape the painful process of giving his statement and filling in the paperwork. After a couple of hours of work he didn’t need or want, Nick really feels ready to go home. He’s interrupted on his way out by Sheeran and despite how much he wants to, Nick doesn’t have it in him to pretend he hasn’t noticed him running behind.

“Grimmy!” Ed calls and Nick sighs.

“If it’s another round of paperwork then I’m definitely not in the mood and I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Sheeran laughs. “Nope. There’s someone waiting for you at your office.  Cher says he’s been there almost all night.”

“What?” He says and that doesn’t really make senses. Of course, everything clears up when he realizes the man waiting is in fact the infamous Louis Tomlinson. Something settles inside Nick. It was Tomlinson, all along. It’s the only reason he’d be here.

“Hi,” Nick says. “Can I help you?”

“DI Grimshaw?” Louis asks and yes, Nick recognizes that northern accent. He’s not going to do anything about it, not anymore. He doesn’t have to. But it does settles his mind a little to finally know.

“Yes,” Nick replies. “Why don’t you step into my office.”

Louis smiles politely, gets in and sits on the chair facing Nick’s desk.

“So,” Nick starts. “I can’t thank you enough, what you’ve done-”

“Listen,” Tomlinson interrupts. “That’s not why I’m here. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the whole recognition thing, but hum.” He stops and hesitates for a second. “I just want my money and my identity back. That’s all.”

Nick nods, understanding, and secretly glad. It's a relief, to be honest. The sooner the guy is out of his way, the better. He can’t have people like him too close. What if he remembers something Simon said? Or something about that night at the movies, where they stumbled around each other in the dark?

Nick just shrugs in response. “I’d love to. I would. You certainly deserve it. Thing is. I’m just here to replace Horan temporarily. I don’t have access. I don’t have your password. And he’s still out for a couple more weeks.”

Louis sighs, looking irritated. He looks as tired as Nick feels. “It’s my name.”

“What?” Nick says, confused.

“The password.”

“They gave it to you?” Nick asks, surprised.

“In case I had to explain myself.”

“Uh,” Nick simply says. “Well, I’ll go deal with that and I’ll be back in a minute.”

“William’s my middle name,” Louis adds as DI Grimshaw gets out of the office.

 

Once he’s alone, he drops his head in his hands and sighs deeply. It’s over. Cowell is dead. And Louis is still alive. He raises his head again after a few seconds, looking around the office, trying to distract himself. His heart jumps in his throat when he notices a familiar yellow envelope, cozy between two files on the desk. _It can’t be it_ , Louis thinks immediately. He’s going mad, or paranoid, or both. Still. He can’t not look. He has to know.

He reaches for it tentatively. It’s quite stuck and he has to insists for a while, but it finally gives in and Louis is holding it in his hand, the crossed out C-I-T-I-Z-I-N-S and his own handwriting underneath both mocking his situation. He has to get out of there. Quick.

 

When he gets back to his office, Nick’s first reaction is worry. He hopes Tomlinson is not feeling unwell, after everything that's happened, but he quickly becomes angry when he sees the envelope on his desk. Louis knows the truth now. Nick has to get rid of him.

“Fuck,” Nick says, pushing a few files around. He passes a hand in his quiff, forming a new plan.

He doesn’t hesitate before going back to the other room and erasing Louis W. Tomlinson’s file forever.

 

*

 

The very next day, Louis stares at a box in shock in a posh office in town. He looks back to the lawyer.

“Me?” he asks again, because no matter how many times he hears it, it still makes no sense.

The lawyer sighs. “Yes, Mr. Tomlinson. Mr. Cowell stated in his will that you should have this.”

He shakes his head. No. It’s impossible. There’s no way Simon would ever leave him anything. There’s no way Simon trusted him this much.

“I’m going to need a signature please Mr. Tomlinson,” the lawyer insists and Louis does so in a daze.

He sits in his car a while later, still in shock, eying the box suspiciously. What could Simon have possibly wanted him to have? No matter which angle he looks the situation from, it still makes no sense. He finally opens it carefully, peering inside with a grimace on his face. Knowning Simon, it can - and probably will - be something awful. He doesn’t want anything from Simon anyway. When he realizes it’s filled with cds, Louis is even more confused than before. So, Simon left him some music? Or something like that?

“What the hell,” he mutters as he puts the first one in his car. It’s dated a few weeks back.

When he recognizes the voices on the tape, Louis starts to laugh gleefully, head bowed on the steering wheel.

 

*

 

Nick thinks he’s hallucinating at first. He’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth when he swears he can hear Simon’s voice from the living room. It’s ridiculous. He knows it is, rationally. He killed Simon. Simon is gone. Nick took care of it. And yet. The deep voice is still there, telling Nick that he needs to work harder, that he needs to find the rat, that he can’t let that fucker mess their plans anymore. It’s only when he hears his own reply that Nick realizes that the voices are not in his head. He spits in the sink and runs to the living room.

Harry has his back to him. He’s facing their stereo, his muscles tensed, listening intensely. Nick doesn’t understand how, but there’s a conversation he had with Simon weeks ago playing. The floor creaks as Nick tries to subtly get closer. Harry turns around, his face closed off. For the first time, Nick really can’t read him.

“What is this?” Harry asks, showing him an envelope and a cd case.

Nick takes a step closer and notices Louis Tomlinson’s name on the return address. He’s going to kill that bastard.

“Where did you get this?” Nick asks.

“It was in the mail,” Harry replies in a cold voice.

“You’re going through my mail now,” Nick says, insulted. How dare he.

“Answer me Nick. What is this?”

The silence stretches on and Harry’s face becomes horrified.

“Oh god,” he says shakily.

“Look, this is none of your business,” Nick starts.

“None of my business?” Harry yells. “You…” He can’t seem to finish his sentence.

“Look it’s confidential, but Cowell was my informant-”

Harry laughs darkly. “Yeah, Nick. Of course he was.”

Nick frowns and takes another step closer. Harry stiffens. “Give me the cd,” Nick says threateningly. He doesn’t want to have to hurt Harry.

Harry reaches for it and slips it back into its case. He shakes his head before walking towards the door.

“Hey, don’t you walk away from me!” Nick yells as he follows. “I said, give me that tape!” He grabs Harry’s arms tightly. They wrestle for a few seconds, but Harry’s tall, he’s strong and he won’t give in that easily.

“Fuck you Nick,” Harry replies, tears in his eyes, finally managing to break free. He throws the empty envelope at Nick and leaves the flat, slamming the door behind him.

“Shit!” Nick yells to his empty living room. “Fucking shit!” In his anger he throws over his coffee table, kicks it a few times. Breathless, exhausted, he sits in the middle of the carnage. It takes him a few seconds to notice the piece of paper hanging from the envelope. It’s a phone number, with a simple _call me_  written after it. It’s not signed, but Nick isn’t stupid. He kicks the broken pieces of his table one last time before making the call.

 

“What do you want?” is the first thing Grimshaw says when Louis answers the phone. He still has a hard time believing how lucky he’s been with this.

“I told you,” Louis replies. “I want my identity back.” He waits a few seconds, but DI Grimshaw doesn’t have any smart come back. “Did you like my mixtape?” Louis adds sarcastically.

“Loved it,” Nick says and Louis hears the _I’m gonna kill you_ hidden underneath.

“Yeah. Turns out Uncle Si was a bit of a paranoid bastard, did you know? Used to record everything. Every phone calls, every meetings. All of it. I have a box full. It was a sort of insurance for him. Pretty smart when you think about it. Guess who his lawyer called?”

Louis lets a moment pass. This is delicious. He has to enjoy every second of it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity; fleeting and precious.

“Me. You hear that? He trusted me. Above anyone else. Ah! How about that!” Louis laughs and he knows, he can feel, that Grimshaw is getting worked up. “So here’s how it’s gonna work. You’re gonna meet me where Payne died in an hour and you bring up my files. Finish restoring me or whatever you have to do. And then we’ll talk. Understood?”

“Fine,” Grimshaw agrees.

 

*

 

Louis is standing next to the roof door, nervously listening for any noises in the stairs. He’s still a bit early, but he doesn’t want to miss his chance now. Niall still hasn’t responded to his texts and it’s making him feel a little bit nervous about the whole operation. He knows he can do this by himself, of course he can, but the support would still be lovely. There’s a banging noise coming from the staircase and Louis straightens up, armed and prepared. Grimshaw is not getting away with it now. After weeks and months, he’s got it coming. The door finally opens and Grimshaw comes onto the roof. Time is suspended for a second before Louis yells.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” he says as he steps out of the shadow.

“Woah,” Nick replies, obeying. “Calm down okay. We have to talk.”

“Shut up. Do you have what I asked?”

“Look, you’ve got it all wrong. Cowell was my informant, okay? I don’t know what you think you heard, but you clearly misunderstood.”

Louis laughs hysterically, gun still pointed at Grimshaw’s face. If Nick thinks Louis is gonna fall for that… “I have months of recording Grimshaw. Months. You’re fucked.”

He pushes Nick back into the door, face first and handcuffs him quickly.

“Who do you think you are?” Nick asks, venom in voice. “I’m a DI, what the fuck are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s arresting you,” Louis whispers in Nick’s ear and it’s so satisfying to say Louis is almost shaking with it. “That’s who I am.”

“You’re a fucking nobody is what you are Tomlinson,” Nick struggles, trying to get out of Louis’ grip. “I erased you,” he admits with glee. “You can’t do anything to me Louis. You’re nothing. Just a fucking criminal like the rest of them.”

Louis’ heart stammers and he sees red. “You erased me?” he says, voice surprisingly calm for the amount of pure fury he feels.

Nick just laughs.“Yep. It’s gonna be hilarious when you, of all people, try to bring me in at the station. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Louis shakes his head. “Shut up!” he yells. “I don’t care. I’m bringing you in. They can do or say whatever they want. I’m still arresting you.”

Nick still struggles, but Louis has the upper hand. He can only hope that Horan got his messages, that he’ll be there, waiting for them. Louis is known, famous for being one of Cowell’s good little soldier. The last time he was at the station, he almost had a panic attack thinking someone was going to see him or recognize him and he’d be sent back in jail without being able to tell his story. And now, now Nick erased all proofs of who he really is, what he’s really done. Going to the station is a risk, especially without confirmation from Niall, but Louis can’t not. He has to do it. This is what he signed up for. He can’t, in good conscience, let this man go. Even if he’s risking everything for it.

Louis pushes Nick’s body away from the door and opens it. “Come on,” he says. “There’s a cell with your name on it.”

 

Once in the car, Louis puts on another one of Cowell’s cds. He knows he probably shouldn’t provoke Nick like that, but he can’t help himself. He thinks about all of the people Nick probably let go free and all of their victims… He thinks he’s justified in being mean, just for a little bit.

Louis can see Nick’s face falling as they keep driving and the cd plays; phone calls after phone calls, incriminating evidences after incriminating evidences.

“I have a hard time imagining anyone would interpret any of this as Simon being your informant, but you’re the detective. I’m just a drop out, you probably know best,” Louis says, taunting him further.

Nick remains silent, until the very last minute. They’re getting close, very close, when he opens his mouth.

“Kill me,” he simply says and Louis feels the deepest sense of satisfaction when he hears it.

“As if,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re gonna get every second of dishonour you deserve,” he says as he parks next to the station.

 

 _This is the tricky part though_ , Louis thinks as he walks in, holding Grimshaw tightly.

A ginger officer’s eyes’ widen as soon as he sees Louis. He takes his weapon out in an instant.

“Wait,” Louis yells. “He’s Cowell’s rat,” he quickly says. “I have a box full of evidences in my car and-”

“We know,” the officer cuts him off. Nick tenses further and Louis’ mouth opens.

“What? How?” he replies.

“Grimmy's partner brought us a cd you sent to their home and DS Horan filled us in on your situation,” another, older officer tells Louis. “Let me get this out of your hand,” he continues, pointing to Nick.

Louis nods slowly as he lets Grimshaw go.

“They’re right there,” the ginger one says, pointing to a waiting area. “You can sit, we’ll probably need you for a statement eventually, but for now…”

The man’s voice trails off, becomes muffled, distant, because there, in one of those ridiculous chair, is Harry. Harry is there, talking with Niall and nothing makes sense until Louis remembers something about Nick’s partner bringing evidence in and suddenly he wants to laugh or cry or scream because their lives are as tangled as he previously wished for. And it’s nothing like he imagined.

He feels a little push in his back and the nice officer is walking him towards the chairs, chatting loudly. Both Niall and Harry look up. Louis turns toward the policeman, not ready to face Harry, not yet.

“How long have you been undercover?” the man is asking, clearly both curious and impressed.

Louis shrugs, uncomfortable. He doesn’t particularly want to talk about this, especially not with a stranger. No matter how kind he is. He clears his throat. “Long time,” he ends up saying as he sits at the opposite end of the row, as far away from the other two as possible. He hopes he doesn’t sound as blasé and tired as he feels.

“Wow. Hey do you want something? Tea? Coffee?”

Louis shakes his head. He’s too shocked to stomach anything. The officer leaves and Louis hears Harry and Niall gets up.

“Hey, Tomlinson,” Niall starts. “You okay?” he asks and he actually sounds worried.

Louis looks up to him and nod. “He erased me,” he says and he hates that he’s admitting it’s worrying him, but it is. It’s worrying him.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, yeah?” Niall says. “I’m working on it as we speak.”

Louis raises his eyebrows.

“Metaphorically,” Horan says. “Yeah, I should probably do it figuratively as well,” he adds in response to Louis’ look. “I’ll be right back and everything’s gonna be perfect, okay?”

Louis nods, eyes still on the ground as Niall leaves.

 

" You said you weren't in trouble" is the first thing Harry tells Louis. It’s a bit accusatory.

Louis snorts. "I've been paid to be in trouble for over a year Harold," he replies and he knows he sounds harsh but he _has_ and he feels _weird_.

Grimshaw was the rat. Harry's boyfriend and that's weird, right? That's really weird and Louis almost thinks about fate before he gets a grip and put his hands over his eyes. He remembers seeing Nick Grimshaw that day. When he let them change his entire life. He remembers the jealousy he felt burning passionately in his belly, how bad he wanted to be in his place. He remembers later, much later, thinking of the nameless, faceless detective that got to call Harry his and the passionate anger he always felt towards him. This is all so strange and synchronized, Louis is not sure he fully understands.

It's finally over and he is exhausted. He feels overexposed, like every single one of his senses is heightened. He is like a nerve that's been probed at for ages; aching and trembling.

Horan comes back with a bunch of pages in his hand. "There you go Tomlinson!" he says loudly. “It was no trouble at all.”

Louis sits back up in his seat, waiting for Niall Horan's particular brand of rudeness.

"You're you again," he simply says though and Louis feels the adrenalin leaves his body.

He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He feels Niall gripping his shoulder tightly for a second.

"Thanks pal." The DS tells him and it's the friendliest he's ever been with Louis in the time they've known each other.

He’s sincere though, Louis can tell, and it feels good. After all this time, after all of this, someone finally acknowledges his work. He nods.

"Yeah," Louis replies because what else is there to say? He just wants to get the fuck out of there.

He's scared to look at Harry. Harry who just lost his boyfriend. He doesn't want to see the anger, or worse, the pity in his beautiful green eyes. Those eyes who used to shine with nothing but patience and, Louis dares hope, fondness.

"You gonna be ok Styles?" Horan asks, turning towards Harry, and of course they know each other.

Harry might even have seen Niall professionally. He did say he was seeing cops as well as criminals. The whole nine yards.

"I can recommend a few good shrinks if you want?" Niall continues. "If you want to ventilate or whatever it is they do for people."

His says it dismissively, with a mocking tone. It's so inappropriate and inconsiderate that Louis' mouth opens in shock and he's the one usually crossing boundaries. He's about to excuse Niall, to say anything to make sure Harry's okay, but the other man simply shakes his head and ruffles DS Horan's hair.

"Cheers Nialler," Harry replies and while he's not sporting his painful smile, the one that look like it'll split his face open, he looks okay.

He doesn’t look defeated or heartbroken which eases Louis’ guilt a little. He doesn’t feel guilty for arresting Nick Grimshaw. The prick deserved it and he’ll deserve every single seconds he gets to spend in jail after the trial. No, Louis doesn’t give a shit about that. He does feel guilty if it hurt Harry’s feelings though. Niall leaves them alone after that and Louis still can't bring himself to look at Harry. He's more scared of Harry than he was of Cowell and his men, as stupid as that sounds. Harry can really hurt him though. Harry can hurt him in a way they couldn't, in a way that actually matters. Louis hears him shuffling closer to the row of plastic chairs. He walks as clumsily as ever, accidentally dragging one in a loud screeching noise for a few seconds before settling in front of Louis whose eyes don't leave the ground. He can see Harry's stupidly worned out brown boots, toes pointed inwardly and Louis is so obscenely fond of him that he wants to cry.

"Lou," Harry says and his voice actually breaks.

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend," Louis replies roughly because he cannot not mention it.

He just ruined Harry's life. Harry sits down in the chair next to him with a loud sigh. It's the one he just dragged so it's slightly out of line, turned towards Louis.

"Don't apologize. He..." Harry licks his lips and the sound is what attracts Louis' gaze back up. Their eyes meet.  "Things weren't going well. And he wasn't all that I thought he was." Harry looks down to his knees and laugh bitterly. " _Obviously_ ," he adds angrily and Louis can't help himself.

He grabs Harry's long fingers, tangling their hands together and squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry he disappointed you." Louis says with sincerity.

Harry nods, gaze fixed on their linked hands. "I actually felt... guilty?" Harry starts softly. "For having feelings for someone else? " He's blinking rapidly, clearly trying to hold back tears. "I thought I was the liar."

Louis not focusing on _having feelings for someone else_. He's not. "What a dick," he says forcefully instead of _I have feelings for you too._

Now is not the time for that. Harry is upset. Louis is upset too. They're both exhausted; emotionally and physically.

"You wanna grab a coffee?" Louis asks shyly, reminiscent of that time when their _whatever this is_ really started. "I feel like this conversation should move to a more private place, yeah?"

“What about your statement?” Harry asks, worried.

“Pretty sure they won’t mind,” Louis replies.

Harry nods quickly and to Louis' surprise doesn't let go of his hand as he gets up. Harry doesn't let go of his hand as they ride the elevator down. He doesn't let go of Louis' hand as they get to Starbucks and neither of them orders coffee. He doesn't even let go of Louis' hand as they walk back to his horribly bare flat and they have to carry their respective cup of tea.

"I've never been to your place," Harry had argued while they waited in line.

"And for good reason!" Louis had replied instantly.

"Everything at my place will remind me of Nick," Harry had finally admitted in a small voice and Louis hadn't really been able to argue with that.

Now that they’re in front of his door though, he feels nervous.

"It’s not...much," he finally says as he fumbles to unlock the door.

Louis didn’t think he could, but Harry gets even closer to him. He’s still holding both their cup of tea, so he simply puts his head against Louis, chin hooked to his right shoulder.

"I don’t care about that," Harry whispers.

"Okay," Louis replies as he finally manages to open his door.

He feels hyper aware of himself as he walks in. His flat is a dump; tiny, bare and sad. It really reflect who Louis is as a person, who he’s been the past year. He walks to the living room and stands in the middle, stretching his arms out, presenting the sofa and the tiny coffee table. There's also a lamp in one corner, but the bulb needs changing so it's not worth pointing at. Certainly not like the stained sofa and the messy coffee table; those are the most attractive pieces in the room.

"Tada!" Louis announces. "Welcome to the most depressing place on Earth."

Harry smiles softly and puts both their tea on the table. Louis starts reaching towards his before being interrupted by Harry's hand on his arm. He looks up.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Harry asks and he's timid and awkward and Louis never wanted them to be like that.

He nods slowly. He wants a hug. He kind of needs one and Harry's are the best. They engulf him completely with warmth and kindness because Harry is a gentle giant. Louis loves it. Both of Harry's hands are on his back. They cover it almost entirely. Louis face is hidden where Harry's shoulder meets his neck. He smells delicious and comforting. He can feel Harry's lips on his temple; breathing him in.

"I'm really glad you're okay," Harry finally admits and his voice is shaky like maybe he's crying. Louis feels like the worst person in the world.

"Don't tell me you were worried about me Dr. Styles," Louis teases, but it sounds rough even to him. Nothing like his usual brand of happy teasing.

"After last time -" Harry starts.

"I know," Louis interrupts. "I'm sorry about that. I was having a bad day and I know I overstepped. I shouldn't have, I'm sorry."

Harry squeezes him tighter, clearly unwilling to let go.

"Shut up, you didn't," he replies before hiding into Louis’ neck as well.

They stay still for a couple of minutes, tightly wrapped around each other.

“I really am sorry,” Louis says because he needs Harry to know, to understand.

“Louis -” Harry starts.

“I am,” he insists.

“Shut up.” Harry says and he really is crying now. He clings to Louis more desperately.

Louis follows his instincts and slide a hand underneath Harry’s plaid shirt, pressing warmth into the small of his back. He rubs large, soothing circles into Harry’s tensed skin.

“Okay,” Louis says. “No more apologizing.”

“S’not allowed anymore,” Harry mumbles.

Louis simply nods in response, before apologizing once more in his head, just because he needs to say it again and again and again, even if Harry doesn’t want to hear it.

After a few minutes, Harry stops sniffling and steps away from the embrace.

“Okay?” Louis asks. Harry just nods and sits down on the sofa, tugging Louis along with their tangled hands. Louis follows and they stare at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says again and the look Harry gives him is murderous.

“I meant for lying to you!” Louis adds quickly. “I didn’t want to, not really.”

Harry smiles, this small thing, but he’s not crying anymore so for Louis it’s a win. “S’okay. I know you had to.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies and it’s small.

Harry starts moving, reaching inside the back pocket of his jeans. He takes the letter Louis wrote to him out.

“Oh,” Louis says. He clears his throat. “Did you read it?” he asks nervously.

Harry shakes his head. “I’d rather you told me.”

They stare at each other for awhile. Comfortable. Safe.

“Okay,” Louis says.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i usually really loathe the whole ~villainization~ of characters/people for the sake of fics/one's pairing but it was very hard to avoid considering the original material from which this story is inspired... hopefully this hasn't offended anyone. there's nothing but good vibes from me towards any ships depicted in this story :) you can hit me up on [ tumblr ](http://www.mediawhorefics.tumblr.com)


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